Jury's Still Out
by PokeyDotes
Summary: You know it's gonna be a bad day when you're the main suspect for murder.
1. Have a Bad Day, It's On the House

**A/N:** I had gotten stuck at a roadblock in terms of writing for this fandom. So, to fix it, I re-read a lot of my other shorter stories and watched a lot of reruns. I decided that I am still in love with the idea of Nell and Deeks having a big brother/sister relationship and after reading _Bumper Cars_ again, I thought, why not do another one shot. However, when I got to what I thought was the end of the one shot, my brain exploded and I came up with an idea for another case fic.

If you've read any of my stories in the past, you know I tend to focus around Deeks. Always have, more than likely always will. Can't help it. I am a Densi fan, and while there will be hints alluding to Densi, I'd like to keep this story semi-cannon (creative licensing not-withstanding). Also, if you're familiar with my work, I tend to put characters through the wringer and thoroughly enjoy whumping 'em good. After last week's episode, I've decided that Nell and Callen will be featured a little at one time or another in this story. I like kick-ass Nell.

As always, the story is already outlined, and I plan to update at least every two days (three at the most, should nothing unfortunate happen). I'm sincerely hoping I can write this story in less than ten chapters. Haven't done it yet, but there's a first for everything…

I'm going to go ahead and say there's a **LANGUAGE WARNING, **just in case. I'm not seeing anything specific, but when I get in one of my moods, the writing takes off and I occasionally find a four-letter word or one of their close cousins hiding out here and there.

Also, I'm pissed I never found out what was in the box…

**Chapter 1**: Have a Bad Day, It's on the House

It's the annoying little jingle that wakes him up, his eyes squeezing shut as the morning sun shines through the opened curtains. Smacking his lips a few times just for good measure, he rubs his face against the pillow, frowning when the jingling returns, followed by a sharp pressure on the side of his cheek.

Opening his eyes slowly, recognizing the familiar feel of a hangover, Deeks stares at the small coffee table, his pounding brain spinning as he tries to figure out where the hell he is. Lifting his head, only to regret the action when the blasted jingle returns, he realizes he's on a couch. A small couch. The kind of small that means his legs are hanging over the armrest, his fingers brushing the ground. Raising his arm, he touches his cheek feeling a small indentation, one not caused by the wrinkled pillowcase.

Slowly, _very _slowly, Deeks sits up, his long legs sliding off the armrest to rest on the floor. Looking at the pillow he had just been lying on, Deeks finds a green shoe, the end curled, a small bell hanging by a few threads resting on the end of the curl. Bingo, he's found the friggin' jingle. He's pretty sure if he were to look in a mirror, the small indentation on his cheek would look a lot like the side of the shoe's bell.

Dropping the shoe back on the too small couch, Deeks rests his elbows on his knees, his hands rising to massage his throbbing head, only stopping when his fingers find more than a serious case of bed-head. Confusion growing by the minute, Deeks pulls the hat from his head, frown in full force as he studies it, his mind trying to remember if he had dressed up like one of the seven dwarves the night before.

He tosses the hat next to the shoe, a little surprised to hear the green ball on the hat jingle as well. His hand rises, absently scratching at his shoulder, drawing attention to the fact that he's shirtless. He looks around the small living room, noting how clean it is, how organized. He spots his boots at the foot of the couch, his phone, keys, and badge on the coffee table. No shirt.

"You're awake," a quiet voice observes, causing Deeks to jump in surprise, his shins clashing against the edge of the coffee table, shaking his keys and phone.

"Sonuvabitch," Deeks mutters, grabbing his head as he squints his eyes, trying to make sense of what he's seeing, his racing heart beating like a base drum in his ears.

Nell simply leans on the doorway, a large cup of coffee in her hands, her brow arched high in amusement. "Sorry," she says with a smile. "I was starting to think you were gonna sleep all day."

Deeks feels his jaw drop a little. He knows he probably looks like an idiot. In truth, he kinda feels like one. "Uh, Nell?"

"Hmm?" She answers as she sips her coffee.

"Where am I?" he asks, his voice sounding like gravel, his throat feeling like broken glass, his tongue tasting…well, _nasty_ is one word that comes to mind.

Nell doesn't look surprised in the least hearing his question. Blowing at the steam rising from her cup, the rim held just under her chin, she answers. "My place."

Deeks nods slowly, his eyes darting around, seeing the little bits of personality that scream 'Nell Jones' decorating the small living room. "And uh…okay."

"Okay?" Nell lets her cup drop a few inches, the amusement still in place.

"Yeah?" Deeks says, not really sure if it's meant to be a question or an answer. He has no memory of the night before, no idea why he would be in Nell's apartment wearing a freaking green and red hat and no shirt. He's a little scared to ask, especially since the gargantuan headache tells him alcohol was involved. Lots of alcohol.

Nell turns without a word, walking through the little doorway, leaving Deeks in his confusion. He hears the distinctive sound of a fridge opening and closing, a small rattle, and a squeak of a door hinge. A few seconds later, Nell's coming back, her coffee in one hand, a bottle of water and Tylenol in the other.

"Here," she says quietly, mindful of his hangover as she hands him the water and pain reliever. Deeks accepts them gratefully, downing half the water in one large gulp before even trying to open the Tylenol.

Nell resumes her spot in the doorway, her shoulder leaning on the frame, seemingly content waiting for Deeks to make the next move. He pops a few pills and then finishes off the rest of the water, the liquid sloshing on his stomach, forcing his eyes to close from the nausea.

"Nell?" he asks once he's certain the water's not about to come back up.

"Yeah?"

"Why am…what happened?" he asks, looking up to search her face for an answer. Nell simply turns her head slightly, her eyebrows rising in innocence.

"What do you remember?" she asks in place of an answer. Deeks closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he prepares to use his brain. He thinks back to the day before, to the case they had worked, to the busload of victims that had been nothing more than collateral in a gang war. He remembers the anger and depression he had felt leaving work, the way his numb mind had worked on autopilot as it drove to the bar, instinctually searching for oblivion. Looks like he found it.

"I remember going to a bar," he finally says after a few long moments. He looks up, a little surprised to see a small worry line present at the point of Nell's furrowed brow.

"And…?" she prompts, obviously wanting him to remember more.

"And then I woke up dressed like a semi-nude Disney dwarf," Deeks finishes, gesturing to the hat still resting on the pillow.

"Elf, actually," Nell corrects, her smile returning. "You found my costume last night while I was cleaning up." She gives him a tight-lipped smile, obviously remembering something funny that he's more than forgotten.

"Elf, right," he says, rubbing his palms on his jean-clad knees, nervously swallowing as he feels his stomach begin to churn, his hangover gearing up to kick his ass. He looks up, scared to open his mouth, but desperately needing to speak.

Nell, recognizing the signs, quickly points down the hallway. "Bathroom's that way." Deeks wastes no time, hurriedly jumping from the couch, leaping over the small coffee table, and running in sock-clad feet towards the bathroom. He manages to drop to his knees in front of the toilet before emptying his stomach of anything and, from the looks of it, everything he's consumed since finding the bar.

As soon as the muscles quit contracting, the heaving slowing, he leans his head against his forearm, letting them both rest against the seat of the toilet, thoughts of hygiene far gone as he takes a moment to truly appreciate the misery in which he currently finds himself.

He doesn't look up when he feels Nell enter the small bathroom. He simply accepts the new water bottle she presses against his bare shoulder. Eyes still closed, he twists the lid, rinsing out his mouth as Nell wets a washcloth in the sink.

"Thanks," he manages to mumble as he closes the toilet lid and reaches to flush. She gives him another soft smile as he leans his back against her bathtub, the cool porcelain causing him to flinch as it touches his skin.

"You okay?" she asks, that worry line back in place. Deeks nods once, not wanting to risk any movement that might be more involved. He wipes his mouth with the washcloth, mentally upgrading the taste in his mouth to something more appropriate than _nasty_.

"Nell, what happened last night?" he finally blurts out, to hell with awkward and embarrassing.

Nell purses her lips and looks to the side, her head bobbing a little, almost like she'd been waiting for him to ask.

"I'm not sure of the whole story," she begins, hopping up onto the edge of the bathroom's counter, her back hunched as she leans forward, her palms resting on the counter as her toes dangle a few feet above Deeks' outstretched legs. "But a little after two in the morning, I get a call from your phone, asking me to come pick you up."

When Deeks' only response is a deep frown, his confusion evident even through the pain of a hangover, Nell continues. "Apparently, you decided to self-medicate and got too hammered to drive home. Bartender took your keys and called me."

"Why you?" he asks, generally curious. Nell shrugs, her expression showing she had been just as surprised as he is now.

"She probably just went to the last number dialed," she guesses, referring to the bartender who had woken her up. "Anyway, I showed up, loaded you in the car and brought you here."

"Why not just drop me off at my place? It wasn't far from the bar." Deeks forces himself to meet her eyes. If he didn't feel like an idiot before, he does now. Idiot multiplied by ass squared.

Nell hunches her shoulders a little more. "You weren't really…in a condition to be left alone." She lets her smile turn sad. "Yesterday was kinda bad for all of us," she says, making it perfectly clear she doesn't judge him for getting smashed.

Deeks leans his head back and drapes the wet washcloth over his eyes. "I'd have been fine," he tells her, although the fact that he has no memory speaks to the contrary.

"Well, that and I doubt I could have gotten you up your stairs," she admits, her tone a little light. Deeks keeps his eyes closed, but he can hear her smile.

"That'd been a sight." He tries to imagine Nell dragging his drunken form up the stairs to his apartment, his elderly neighbor Mrs. Nolan trying to help by grabbing his feet.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Nell asks slowly, drawing each word out in uncertainty.

"'Bout what?" Deeks asks, feigning ignorance.

"About yesterday. The people on the bus." She straightens her shoulders a little, clasping her hands in her lap as she waits for his answer. Twenty-two people had been killed, men, women, and children. Everyone had taken it hard, everyone had reacted badly, professionalism be damned.

"I don't really wanna talk about it," he drawls, sitting up and lifting the toilet lid again, his stomach revolting a second time around. Nell looks away, but stays were she is. When it's clear there isn't anything left in his stomach, Deeks resumes his position of misery, head on forearm, both against the rim of the bowl. "What I do want to talk about is my missing shirt."

Nell snorts as she attempts to hide her laughter, her hand rising to cover her mouth. She looks at Deeks apologetically as she bites her lower lip. "It's in the dryer," she tells him. "I had to wash it."

"God, tell me I didn't throw up on myself," Deeks pleads, his voice echoing in the toilet bowl.

"No," Nell promises, her feet slowly starting to kick back and forth, her heels bouncing on the cabinet door beneath her sink. "You spilt milk all over it."

"Milk?" Deeks asks, rolling his head on his arm to look at her.

"I gave you a PB&J to soak up some of the alcohol," she explains. "You said you couldn't eat peanut butter without milk."

Just the mention of food, the mere _thought_ of peanut butter coating his tongue sends his gag reflex into overdrive. Having already emptied his stomach, Deeks grips the edges of the toilet bowl, dry heaves causing his muscles to painfully contract, his head threatening to explode.

"Sorry," Nell whispers again, and Deeks flinches when he realizes she's standing right beside him. He looks up, thankful when she has a fresh washcloth waiting for him, the bottle of Tylenol resting on the counter, his half-drank bottle of water held in her hand.

Embarrassment building at the thought of being so drunk he can't remember what bar he'd gone to, even more so at the thought of Nell of all people having to clean him up after he spilled milk all over himself, Deeks takes the washcloth and offers a small, self-deprecating smile.

"Any chance we can keep all this between you and me?" he asks with a short laugh, his eyes focusing anywhere but on her.

"I won't tell if you won't," she answers, her voice so sincere, it forces Deeks to look up in surprise. Her smile is still sad, but he can tell it's not from pity. It's because she understands, and though he still feels like an idiot multiplied by an ass squared, he swears in that moment to be eternally grateful to the small woman before him.

"Thanks, Nell."

"You're welcome, Deeks."

A few minutes, one clean shirt, and another go with the toilet later, Deeks and Nell walk outside. It's close to lunchtime, the sun high in the sky—a spotlight to highlight Deeks' stumbling path to Nell's car.

Stopping in front of the mini-cooper, Deeks lets one eyebrow find its way towards his hairline as he looks to Nell.

"What?" she asks, confused.

Deeks looks down at himself and then at the small car. "I don't think I'm gonna fit in there."

Nell laughs and pulls her door open, sliding into the car as she raises her voice for him to hear. "You fit fine last night."

Not having any memory to dispute her claim, Deeks opens the door and prepares to fold himself inside, pleasantly surprised to find that he does, in fact, have enough room. Content for the moment, he pushes a borrowed pair of sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose and folds his jacket up as a pillow, leaning against the passenger door as Nell starts the engine.

"D'you pick me up at Murphy's?" he asks, arms folded across his chest, looking every bit as hungover as he feels. If he had the will power to open his eyes, he'd see the look of concern cross Nell's face as she casts a sideways glance in his direction.

"Yeah," she tells him, clearing her throat and adjusting her grip on the steering wheel. Traffic is light for a Friday morning, everyone having already made it to work. Had Hetty not given them the day off, allowing them a day to deal with the complete failure from the day before, Nell and Deeks would be at work as well, planted behind a desk, catching up on paperwork. "Deeks?"

Deeks cracks one eye open, turning his head to look at Nell when he hears her hesitant tone. "Yeah?"

Nell taps her thumb on the steering wheel, her lips pursing to the side as she thinks of how to word what she wants to say. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to someone, because-"

"Nell," he interrupts softly, not wanting to be mean, "I promise, I'm fine. Hetty's already talked to me, she talked to us all."

"Deeks, you drank so much you don't remember what bar you went to." Nell goes for blunt, wanting to make sure he understands how worried she had been seeing him the night before.

Deeks shifts in his seat, the jacket/pillow slipping down the door. "I'm fine," he whispers, just loud enough for her to hear. He worries his tongue across his lower lip, trying his best to ignore his headache. "I normally don't drink that much," he admits, "I just…I guess I just got a little emotional, and needed to forget. That's all."

Nell inhales slowly through her nose, her jaw tight as she listens to his quiet confession. She swallows once, clearing her throat again before speaking. "Promise you'll call someone next time," she pleads, taking her eyes off the road to look at him. "It can me if you don't want the others to know, it can be someone else…I don't care, just…don't do that again."

She quickly brings her attention back to the road, suddenly not wanting to see how he responds to her friendly intentions.

Deeks straightens in his seat, letting the jacket fall the rest of the way. "I promise," he says quietly, feeling his face flush a little from both embarrassment and her obvious concern.

The rest of the drive is silent, Nell focusing on the road while Deeks attempts to massage his throbbing brain, his fingers rubbing his temples.

The parking lot at Murphy's Pub is deserted except for Deeks' car parked in the corner of the lot.

"You good to get home?" Nell asks as Deeks climbs out. He rests his hand on the roof of her car and bends to look into her window.

"Yeah, it's just a couple of blocks," he tells her, crooked smile in place. He squints his eyes as he hands her back her sunglasses, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, a nervous habit he's not really aware of. "Thanks again, Nell, for-" he trails off, gesturing to the bar and what had undoubtedly been an embarrassing situation, if only he could remember.

"No problem," she assures him, pushing the offered sunglasses back at him. "Keep 'em," she says, shifting the car back into gear. "You can give them back Monday."

Deeks just smiles a full smile as he puts them back in place, happy for the reprieve from the glaring sun. "See ya Monday," he tells her, thumping his hand on the roof of her car before standing straight.

"See ya Monday," she agrees, slowly pulling away, leaving Deeks alone in the parking lot. Figuring the sooner he gets his ass into gear, the sooner he can get home and get to bed Deeks begins to move his feet in the direction of his car.

Opening the driver's door, he's hit with a stifling heat and a smell he can't quiet place, both forcing him to back away as he fights the urge to vomit yet again. Breathing through his mouth, he climbs into the car and quickly rolls the windows down as he looks around the interior, trying to find the source of the smell. It reminds him of something, like rotten food and bad fish combined, not something that should be roasting in a sun-baked car.

Deciding his head hurts too much to deal with it at the moment, he cranks the car and pulls it out of the parking lot, easing it onto the road and in the direction of his apartment. Usually, he avoids the potholes on the street leading away from the bar. Usually, he isn't trying to drive with a killer headache. Too tired to care, he allows the car to drive right into the small hole in the pavement, the result causing his car to bounce roughly as he tries to steer it straight.

It's the thump that causes him to slow down. A heavy thump, muffled and coming from the trunk. Turning around to look, as though he could actually see through the back seat into the trunk, Deeks hits another pothole, resulting in yet another heavy thump.

Hangover or not, curiosity wins as he pulls the car onto the side of the road. Waiting until the line of cars behind him has passed, he opens his door and walks to the back of the car, popping the trunk.

He doesn't even notice the smell anymore—strange considering he's found its source. All he can focus on is the sight of the body crumpled over his tire iron and gym bag, the face frozen in a look of surprise, blood matting the greasy hair at the temple.

Deeks simply closes the trunk, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can feel his headache worsening. So much for a day to recover.

TBC…

**A/N: I told you, my brain just exploded.**


	2. Alibis and Misjudging Eyes

**A/N:** This chapter isn't big on action. It's mostly dialogue, but it's all necessary, I assure you. I hate starting stories, because you have to lay the groundwork. That's why I prefer one-shots, just jump right in headfirst…

**Chapter 2**: Alibis and Misjudging Eyes

Deeks is sitting on the curb when Kensi finally pulls up. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, her eyes tired like she hadn't had enough sleep either. Deeks watches as she gives him a once over, her eyes narrowing at the obvious signs of a hangover—the smell of stale alcohol and vomit, the same clothes being worn two days in a row, and a painful pinched frown.

"Nice glasses," she says as way of a greeting, clearly not wanting to start off with '_why's there a body in your trunk?_'

Deeks rubs his hand along the back of his neck as he looks down, hiding his smile. He grunts as he stands, pressing the release button on his keychain, the trunk opening with an audible pop. Kensi takes a step back, her nose scrunching up as she peers inside from the new distance.

"Do you know who he is?" she asks, using her phone to snap a quick picture of the body. She turns away as Deeks lowers the lid enough to keep passers-by from seeing but not enough to lock the trunk again.

"No clue," he tells her. He's a little surprised she beat the cops. Even though he had called her first, LAPD normally wouldn't take this long to respond to a report of a dead body. "Found him like that."

Before Kensi can ask anything more, the sound of a single siren blip cuts her off, the tires of the unmarked police car crunching over the gravel and trash on the side of the road. A detective Deeks doesn't recognize climbs out of the car and begins to make his way towards them.

"Detective Richard Ryan," he says, extending his hand in a greeting. Deeks returns the gesture, trying his best not to look hungover.

"Detective Marty Deeks, this is my partner Special Agent Kensi Blye," he tells the Detective, jerking his head in Kensi's direction. Kensi shakes Detective Ryan's hand and smiles at his look of confusion.

"I'm with NCIS," she explains, knowing he had gotten caught up on the 'Special Agent' part. "Deeks is our liaison with your department."

Deeks lets her do to talking, both knowing his breath is anything but friendly. Detective Ryan nods, his eyes widening in realization.

"So you're _that_ Marty Deeks," he says, reaching into his pocket for a pair of gloves. "Heard about you."

"Not sure if that's a good thing or not," Deeks half jokes, accepting the piece of gum Kensi discreetly passes to him.

Detective Ryan just laughs, not really clarifying whether or not it is actually good or bad. He lifts the lid to the trunk, making a face of disgust similar to the one Kensi had made moments before. The body isn't decomposed, but it still gives off a fairly strong smell.

"You run the plates yet?" Ryan asks, careful not to touch the body until the coroner arrives.

Deeks scratches the back of his head, his other hand resting on his hip as he answers the Detective's question. "Not really any need."

Ryan looks up, confused frown in place. "And why's that?"

"Because it's my car," Deeks says on a heavy exhale, his other hand falling from the back of his head to rest on his hip.

Ryan chews on his upper lip for a moment, his eyes looking back and forth from Kensi to Deeks, trying to see if they're playing him for a fool. When it becomes clear that Deeks is telling the truth, Ryan blinks slowly and shakes his head, his gloved hand pointing to the red Chevy.

"You're telling me you found a body in the back of your car?"

Deeks nods his head once. "Yep."

"Any idea on the dead guy's ID?" Ryan asks, tilting his head.

"Nope," Deeks answers, hating the situation more and more with each passing question. Ryan lets out a deep sigh, his cheeks puffing with the effort.

"Detective Deeks…you gotta work with me here," Ryan says, shifting his weight to lean on one leg. "This ain't looking good."

"I know," Deeks admits, his eyes still hidden behind Nell's glasses. All three heads turn as a police cruiser pulls up, two uniformed cops climbing out as the coroner's van arrives immediately after.

"Rope off the perimeter," Ryan orders, his hands gesturing to the area immediately around the parked car. Deeks clears his throat, shaking his head as he begins to speak up.

"Not here," he says, stopping the uniformed cops. "The car was parked at Murphy's Pub all night. Just down the street." Deeks points to the bar in the distance, his stance shifting uncomfortably as Detective Ryan studies him with a new level of scrutiny.

Eyes still on Deeks, Ryan turns his head in the direction of the cops. "Secure the parking lot, and find out who all was working last night. I want any security footage they got."

"Yes, sir," the first cop says before walking back to the cruiser. Ryan gestures to the sidewalk, getting Deeks and Kensi out of the way and out of earshot as the coroner and his assistant begin to examine the body.

"Alright, time to cut the crap," Ryan whispers harshly, his eyes cutting to the still-near coroner before looking at Deeks. "Anyone with one good eye can tell you're hungover from hell and back. Now, I need to know everything that you know."

Pretenses aside, Deeks pushes the sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head, his red-rimmed eyes squinting as he meets Ryan's. In an even, hard voice, Deeks tells him what he knows.

"Last night, I went to Murphy's, had a little too much to drink, and couldn't drive home. I had to leave my car here."

"What time did you get to the bar?" Ryan asks, his notepad and pen out.

Deeks closes his eyes as he tries to remember what time he left work. "Right after work," he says as an answer, no specific numbers coming to mind.

Ryan looks up from the paper, frowning. "Which would be around…?"

"Midnight," Kensi supplies, her own frown taking on a worried edge as she listens to her partner's story.

Ryan cuts his eyes to Kensi for a hard moment before letting them drop back to his notepad. "And what time did you leave?"

"No idea," Deeks admits quickly, his hands making their way to his pockets.

"None at all?" Ryan asks, his tone and expression making it clear Deeks isn't helping the situation. "Just give me a ballpark range?"

"Sometime after two AM," Deeks guesses, remembering Nell saying she had gotten a call after two. "But that's all I got."

Ryan writes the time down, and looks back up at Deeks. Deeks wants to hit the guy when he recognizes the look of doubt, the one all detectives get when they don't believe a witness's story.

"Where'd you go last night?" Ryan asks, doubtful look still in place.

Deeks forces himself not to shift uncomfortably as he realizes just how much worse the situation's about to get. "I staid with a friend," he mutters, purposefully not looking Kensi's way.

Ryan obviously senses Deeks' sudden discomfort, because his eyes flick to Kensi before falling back to Deeks. "Do you know this friend's name?"

Deeks inhales through his nose, his head tilting back a little as he realizes any embarrassment from last night is about to become public record. "Nell Jones."

Deeks doesn't look at Kensi, but judging by the way Ryan's eyes dart back and forth between her and Deeks, Deeks is willing to bet her surprise had shown on her face. Making a mental note to sort out any misunderstandings on the ride home, Deeks continues giving what he's beginning to realize is his alibi.

"She picked me up, you'll have to ask her what time, and I spent the rest of the night at her place." He says it quickly, hushed, even though he knows Kensi can hear. God, it sounds bad when voiced out loud and out of context. "She dropped me off so I could get my car a little before noon. I called it in right after I discovered the body."

Deeks is already reaching for his phone as he brings up Nell's number, letting Detective Ryan copy it down on his little notepad when one of the uniformed police officer's walks up, letting Ryan know the bartender is on her way.

Ryan thanks the officer and then turns his attention back to Deeks. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

Deeks gives him a tight-lipped smile and shakes his head, returning the sunglasses to their proper position. "Not really."

Ryan closes the notepad and taps his pen on the cover. "We'll get a crime scene unit out here, check everything over." He puts the notepad away, reaching into his pocket for a small, white card. "We'll call you when we learn anything. And I expect you to call me if you remember anything."

"Will do," Deeks says, taking the offered card.

Ryan looks to the car, watching as the coroner and his helper remove the body from the trunk. "I don't have to remind you to stay in town, right? You know the drill?"

Deeks doesn't hide his contempt at being treated as a suspect. "No, you don't. You know, me being a detective too and all."

Ryan nods, his discomfort with the situation obvious. "Go home, Detective. Sleep it off," he says, before turning and walking to talk to the coroner, leaving Kensi and Deeks standing on the sidewalk.

Deeks rubs his forehead, his headache having increased exponentially over the last half-hour.

"So, I'm guessing you're gonna need a ride," Kensi says, breaking the silence. Deeks lets a derogatory laugh slip out as he nods, finally turning to face his partner.

"Yeah, if you don't mind." He bites his lip as she pulls her keys from her pocket, her false everything-is-fine smile in place. He can tell immediately that she's pissed.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Deeks slides into the booth, his forehead immediately falling into his hands. "Why couldn't I just go home?" he asks for the second time. He had been more than a little surprised when Kensi decided to drive right by his apartment building, not even bothering to slow down.

"Because you need protein," Kensi tells him, her answer the same as the first time he asked.

Deeks looks up, letting his palms move to his cheeks so they can still support his head. "What I need is to go back to sleep," he whines as a waitress comes over with two laminated menus. Kensi holds her hand up, stopping the waitress from putting the menus down.

"We already know what we want," she says with a friendly voice and an even friendlier smile. "I want an order of your cheesy home fries and he'll have one hangover special."

The waitress looks at Deeks slumped in the booth before returning Kensi's friendly smile.  
"Cheesy potatoes and one hangover special coming right up."

"Hangover special?" Deeks asks as the waitress walks away.

"Trust me," Kensi tells him as she leans back in her seat, her arms folded across her chest as she tightens her jaw, studying him again. Deeks cringes a little, looking at his phone before setting it on the table.

"Okay, why are you angry?" he finally asks, leaning back and mirroring her pose. He's still wearing the sunglasses, perfectly content to ignore the looks he's receiving from the diner's other patrons.

"I'm not angry," Kensi says, her tone saying otherwise. When Deeks arches a disbelieving brow, she shrugs and starts playing with the rolled up fork and knife resting on the table. "I just don't know why you didn't call me last night."

Deeks actually laughs then, the act causing the throb in his head to spike. "Seriously?" he asks once the throb diminishes back to a manageable state. "You're jealous?"

"I'm not jealous," she quickly defends, leaning forward and pointing the rolled silverware at him. "I was just…confused. I'm you're partner, yet you call Nell. I know she's a friend, but—"

"I didn't call Nell," he interjects, lowering his head so he can look at her over the glasses. "The bartender did."

Kensi lets the hand holding the knife and fork drop to the table as she leans back a little, her brow creased. "What?"

Deeks takes off Nell's glasses and sets them next to his phone. He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes as he tries to explain the situation without sounding like an out of control frat-boy.

"I didn't call Nell," he repeats quietly, aware of the waitress bringing over a tray of drinks. He waits until she's given them their glasses of water and orange juice before continuing. "I'm guessing they had to cut me off and the bartender called the last number dialed on my phone."

He picks up the orange juice and takes a large sip, happy to have something other than gum, whiskey, and vomit flavoring his mouth. When he sets the glass down, he finds Kensi staring at him, the crease in her brow deeper than he's ever seen it. "What?" he asks, thoroughly confused.

"You _guess_ they had to cut you off?" she asks incredulously, obviously not liking what she's just heard.

Deeks wraps his fingers around the glass of orange juice, wiping away the condensation. "I don't really remember," he admits, keeping his voice low so the people in the neighboring booths won't hear.

Kensi presses her fingers to her temples as though she's trying to ward off a headache. Deeks keeps quiet, feeling very much like a child who is about to be scolded. When Kensi lowers her hands, the look on her face tells Deeks that his feeling had been correct.

"Deeks, what do you remember?"

Already having had to answer that question once before when Nell had asked it, Deeks doesn't even have to think about the answer. He does, however, hate having to admit it out loud. He pushes his orange juice to the side, and lays his forehead on the chipped tabletop. "I remember leaving work and thinking about going to get a drink," he confesses, his voice muffled from his new position.

He can hear Kensi tapping her nails on the table as she thinks, the sound reverberating into his skull. "But you remember actually going to the bar, right?" she asks, her tone hopeful.

Deeks simply rolls his head side to side in a negative gesture, keeping his head on the table.

"Deeks, there was a body found in your car, and now you're telling me that you can't remember the last twelve hours," she whispers harshly, and Deeks can tell from the sound of her voice that she's leaning in towards him.

He looks up, his chin hovering an inch above the table as he answers. "Kensi, I know it looks bad, okay? But seriously? Do you really think I'd kill a guy and stuff him in my trunk?"

"Of course I don't," she quickly assures him. "But you're a cop. You know how this looks. Detective Ryan knows how this looks."

Deeks rolls his eyes at the mention of Detective Ryan. "What do you want me to say, Kens? I normally don't drink that much. I can't really defend what I don't remember." His rising blood pressure causing his headache to worsen, Deeks lets his forehead find the table again, perfectly happy to stay there until he dies.

He hears Kensi's nails bouncing on the tabletop again, and he wants to smile, because he swears he can hear her thinking.

"Just don't tell Ryan that you blacked out," Kensi whispers after a few tense seconds.

"Don't worry," Deeks tells her, the thought having already crossed his mind. After all, he isn't a _complete_ idiot. "And can you please stop tapping the table?"

The tapping immediately stops, and he expects to hear a 'sorry', or maybe even a smart-aleck comeback. Instead, he hears a peppy, much to happy voice warn Kensi. "Watch out, Hun. The plate's hot."

Deeks lifts his head and the waitress sets a plate down in front of him as well as another glass of orange juice. "One hangover special," she announces with a knowing smile. "I suggest you start with the toast."

"Thanks," Deeks mumbles as he studies the plate before him. For some reason, he had half expected a bizarre concoction of raw eggs and tomato juice, something an old roommate had sworn by. However, much to his delight, the eggs before him are cooked, scrambled if anyone wants to get specific. Two slices of watermelon, two triangles of wheat toast, and one banana sit to the side of the large mound of eggs, completing the 'Hangover Special'.

"This is the hangover special?" Deeks asks, picking up a fork and shoveling the eggs around on his plate.

"Protein, potassium, magnesium," Kensi begins to list as she twirls a large glob of cheese around her fork. "Everything your body needs and then some after a night of poor judgment."

"Are we speaking from experience Miss Blye?" Deeks asks around a small mouthful of eggs, pleasantly surprised when his stomach doesn't immediate revolt against the new addition.

"Uh-huh," Kensi answers distractedly, causing Deeks to look up from his plate. He frowns when he sees Kensi's attention is focused on her phone.

He finishes off the first glass of orange juice before asking, "Who are you calling?"

"No one," she says, her fingers darting about the screen. "I'm sending Eric the picture of the body. Maybe he can figure out an ID through Facial Rec."

Deeks reaches across the table and snatches her phone out of her hands. "Don't do that!"

"Why not?" she asks angrily, her hand already held out expectantly, wanting him to return her phone.

"Because," Deeks begins to explain, deleting the half finished text. "It's supposed to be our day off, and it's not an NCIS case."

"The body was found in your car," Kensi says slowly, enunciating each word like he's incapable of understanding English.

"Yes, Kensi. That has been established," he deadpans. Still keeping her phone out of her reach, he holds up three fingers. "We know exactly three things about the dead man. One, he is dead," he says, lowering one of his fingers.

Ignoring Kensi's death-glare, he continues to count. "Two, he was found in my car. Three," he says bringing down his last finger, "he smelled really bad, even for a dead guy."

He sets her phone down on the seat beside him, and resumes eating.

"You're kidding me right?" Kensi asks, her cheese-drenched potatoes apparently forgotten. "You're seriously going to sit there and act like nothing's happened? Like a detective isn't out there right now confirming your alibi?"

Deeks puts his fork down and sighs heavily. "Kensi, we both know I didn't have anything to do with _whatever _happened. Most likely, the killer needed somewhere to stash the body, and my abandoned car was the best option."

He picks up a piece of watermelon, savoring the sweetness as he continues to explain why he isn't worried. "Ryan'll check everything out, he'll confirm my alibi, watch the security footage, and see that I had nothing to do with it."

"But it was your car," Kensi points out, not happy with Deeks' explanation. "Why aren't you working on the investigation?"

"Because I do undercover work," Deeks says with an air of pride, borderline lecturing. "Detective Richard Ryan is a homicide detective. He investigates when dead bodies are found."

"We investigate homicides all the time," Kensi says, her voice taking on a 'know-it-all' kind of vibe.

"Yeah, well NCIS is a little more well-rounded," Deeks counters, pushing his still full plate away. "LAPD likes to specialize. They tend to get upset when other departments start to stray."

Kensi nods, showing she understands. She picks up her fork and resumes eating, but Deeks can tell she still isn't happy. Two bites in, she drops her fork again.

"But you are going to go see what Ryan's found out, right?"

Any other time, Deeks would have laughed at his partner's insistence. "Kensi, I'm not about to walk into the precinct looking like this," he says, gesturing to his bloodshot eyes. "But yeah, I am. Give me a few hours sleep, a shower, and then we can go check out what Ryan's learned."

"We?" Kensi asks with a smile.

"Well, I'm kinda going to need a ride," Deeks points out. "Dead guy, remember?"

Kensi laughs and dives back into her food. Fork held at her mouth, she pauses. "You might want to move the shower to the front of the list," she suggests.

"You saying I stink?" Deeks asks, feigning offense.

Kensi shrugs. "I just think some of John Doe's fishy smell attached to you."

Deeks frowns and smells his shirt, a scent half fabric softener, half rotted ocean assaults his sinuses. "I was kinda hoping I was only imagining that."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Deeks isn't really sure how long he's been sleeping, but he knows it hasn't been nearly long enough. He's in bed, freshly showered, and in clean clothes. Nell had called before they left the diner, her voice worried, wanting to know why a homicide detective was calling her, asking her questions about Deeks. Deeks had given the phone to Kensi as he made his way to the bathroom to watch the hangover special make it's second appearance.

Kensi had driven him home not long after that, telling him she was going to stick around until he slept off his hangover. He had left her in his living room, her feet propped on the coffee table, Monty snuggled next to her as Deeks went to shower.

Looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand, Deeks can see that he hasn't even been asleep for two hours yet, meaning something had woken him up, because he sure as hell hadn't done so on his own.

The sound of voices echoing down the hallway catches his attention, both sounding familiar, but only one welcomed. Deeks unwillingly slides out of bed and pulls on a pair of jeans. There's a short knock on his bedroom door before Kensi's peeking her head in, that worry line in place as she makes her way into the room.

"Detective Ryan is here," she informs him, grabbing a t-shirt off the foot of the bed and tossing it to him.

"What's he want?" Deeks asks, pulling the shirt over his head, a little relieved to see that the nausea's cleared away, even if the headache's decided to stick around.

Kensi crosses her arms and cocks a hip, clearly not happy. "To talk to you."

When Deeks nods and begins to make his way to the door, Kensi steps in front of him, her hand rising to push on his chest, stopping him from going further. "He wants to talk to you down at the station," she clarifies.

Deeks stares for a moment, his brain catching up with what that actually implies. He closes his eyes and sighs before casting a longing look to his rumpled bed, vowing to never drink again.

TBC…

**A/N:** I know I said I'd probably update once every two days, but I finished this sooner than I expected. Feel free to let me know if you think I should spend more time working on a chapter before I post. I'm aiming for quality, people…I don't want to post something and it feel rushed.


	3. An Excess of Confusion

**A/N:** I did my best to make this chapter non-craptastic. It all makes sense in my head, but then _I_ know how the story ends…

Constructive criticism is welcome, but those with just outright criticism, please wait until the story's ended before casting full judgment. That's all I ask.

**Chapter 3: **An Excess of Confusion and the Devil's Advocate

To say the silence enveloping the small apartment is uncomfortable would be an understatement. Detective Ryan stands patiently by the front door, his hands in his pockets as he waits for Deeks to finish pulling on his shoes.

Kensi stands in the archway separating the kitchen from the living room. Deeks can tell that she's purposefully trying to control her features, trying her best not to look worried. If he's being honest, he's doing to exact same thing.

He's drunk a good bit in his thirty-odd years, had more than his fair share of hangovers. But not once has he drunk so much that he's blacked out. There are twelve hours of his life that he can't account for, at least not of his own doing. Were it not for Nell, Deeks would have no idea what had happened the night before. In a way, he still doesn't.

"You want to ride in with me, or is your partner going to give you a ride?" Ryan asks when Deeks finally stands from the couch, his laces finally tied. Deeks opens his mouth to say he can ride with Kensi, when she cuts him off.

"Actually, would it be okay if he rode with you?" she asks, causing both Deeks and Ryan to look at her in surprise. "I've just…got something I need to do," she adds hurriedly, tacking on a friendly smile for effect.

Ryan simply shrugs, raising his eyebrows as he opens the door. "Fine either way," he tells her, glancing at Deeks. "That okay with you?"

Deeks looks to Kensi, outwardly hoping she'll change her mind. But when Kensi gives him a look comprised of equal parts apology and '_trust me_', Deeks has no choice but to agree.

"Yeah, that's fine with me," Deeks says, grabbing his jacket from the couch. "But something tells me this is going to be awkward."

Ryan laughs as he leads the way to the parking lot, Deeks following close behind, turning to give one last betrayed look to his partner before closing the door behind him.

Deeks walks down the stairs, pulling his jacket on as he goes. He stops at the dark sedan, his fingers on the door handle, waiting for Ryan to unlock it. Obviously, Detective Ryan isn't used to having people ride with him, at least not up front, because Deeks has to wait for the man to clear the front seat of miscellaneous junk before he can sit down.

They drive in silence for the first mile, Deeks' fingers worrying the bottom snap on his jacket. "See," he says looking out the window. "Told you this was gonna be awkward."

"Yeah, it kind of is," Ryan admits, a small smile creeping through his tough demeanor. Deeks gives a derisive snort before looking to Ryan, his tone growing serious.

"So, are we gonna wait till we get to the precinct for you to start the interrogation, or do you want to start now? Because, that _is_ what this is, right?" Deeks asks, gesturing between himself and Ryan. "An interrogation?"

"I just have a few questions. Just a few loose ends to tie up," Ryan says, not really answering Deeks' question. Deeks nods as he chews on his bottom lip nervously.

"Of course," he mumbles, not really caring if Ryan hears him or not. He rubs his palms on the legs of his jeans, suddenly finding them to be sweaty. "Did you call Nell?" he asks, forcing himself to sound calm, to keep his voice from rising an octave higher than it should. "Did she confirm my alibi?"

"I talked to her," Ryan assures him. "And it wasn't to confirm an alibi. It was to build a timeline. This isn't about you being a suspect."

"Then what is it?" Deeks demands, his patience long gone, his concern at the situation growing as it becomes clear that Ryan isn't seeing the body being in the trunk of Deeks' car as anything more than an unfortunate coincidence.

Ryan keeps his eyes on the road, that tough demeanor solidifying once again. "A professional courtesy," he finally answers. When Deeks doesn't immediately have a comeback, Ryan sighs, and allows his posture to relax, forcing the tension in his shoulders to ease. "Look Deeks, we both know this situation isn't ideal. I'm just trying to build a complete picture, trying to get the best understanding of what happened." He gives Deeks a reassuring smile. "If you really had nothing to do with all of this, than you have no reason to worry."

Deeks nods, letting his eyes close as he leans his head back to the headrest, breathing deeply through his nose. He can feel the awkward silence creeping back into play when Ryan clears his throat.

"So, your partner seemed a little upset," Ryan says, and Deeks can't tell if he's trying to prevent more awkwardness or if he's generally curious.

"Yeah, her feathers tend to get ruffled when it looks like I'm in trouble."

"No, I was talking about how she reacted when she heard about you and Nell Jones," Ryan corrects, his smile morphing into a leer. "She seemed a little jealous."

Deeks laughs then, the act ending in a snort as he tries to rein it in. "Dude, you got it all wrong," he says, massaging his forehead. "Nell and I work together. We're nothing more than friends. And Kensi and I, we're just partners. Nothing else. And friends. Partners and friends."

Ryan gives Deeks a look that clearly screams '_If you say so'_. "Just partners and friends, huh?"

"Partners and friends," Deeks confirms.

"And this Jones woman?" Ryan asks, obviously not wanting the subject to drop.

Deeks tilts his head as he tries to think of a way to describe his relationship with Nell. "She's kind of like the intimidating little sister I never had." He smiles, finding the description accurate, because God knows Nell can be intimidating, especially when she wants to be.

"I know it might have sounded kind of sordid this morning, but really, there's nothing going on there," Deeks tells him, wanting to make sure Ryan doesn't have the wrong idea about Nell. "She's kinda got this not-really thing going on with a guy at work. They're like…" Deeks trails off, his hands coming together to look like two hand puppets kissing in a pecking motion. He laughs tiredly as he lets his hands fall back to his lap. "They're actually really cute together."

Ryan give a slight shrug to match his slight smile before he and Deeks fall back into a semi-comfortable silence, not too awkward, but still a little weird. They drive for a few more miles, the police scanner filling the silence until Deeks has had enough and once again gets tired of waiting.

"Did you find out who the dead guy was?"

Ryan nods slowly, looking very nonchalant as he answers. "A food-truck vendor named David Oran, ever heard of him?"

Deeks shakes his head, the name not sounding familiar. "You figure out why he smelled so bad?"

Ryan laughs a little as he shakes his head. "Not yet. Lab's running tests, but you know how long those take."

Deeks raises his eyebrows in agreement. That's one thing he likes about NCIS, things tend to get done immediately. Secretly, Deeks thinks Hetty's the one to thank for that.

Other than a little spattering of conversation, the two men ride the rest of the way in silence, Deeks having no choice but to wait until they reach the station to learn more.

-:-

Although the precinct is different than the one Deeks was stationed at, it's still set up in a similar fashion—front lobby, bullpen, break room, and holding, pretty much the same. Despite Ryan's assurances that it's not an interrogation, Deeks still finds himself a little surprised when they bypass the interrogation rooms. Instead, Deeks is led to what he recognizes as a conference room, usually reserved for department meetings and group briefings. Ryan gestures to the coffee pot, telling Deeks to help himself before disappearing with a promise to be back soon.

The room is in the middle of the station, encased with windows, allowing the room's occupants to see into the bullpen. Deeks can't help feeling like an animal on display at the zoo as he peeps through the slanted blinds, his eyes tracking the many people roaming about the station. When he catches what he assumes to be a custodian in a navy-blue work shirt staring at him, Deeks steps away from the windows and decides to make use of the coffee machine.

The coffee's a little stale, but not too bad. A quick glance through the windows shows that Ryan's nowhere to be seen. Deeks sits at the long table, the chair squeaking beneath his weight. He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Kensi, asking where she is. When she doesn't respond right away, he sends three more texts, each containing a single question mark.

Realizing that she isn't going to answer, Deeks puts his phone away, deciding to occupy his time sipping his coffee and tapping a beat on the table with the coffee stirrers. Any calm he had managed to find quickly begins to dissipate as he watches the clock, time creeping by as he is forced to wait.

After nearly half an hour, Deeks is just about to reach for his phone to send another text when he spots Ryan walking towards the conference room, a folder in his hand and a pretty woman following close behind.

Deeks straightens in his seat as the door opens, both Ryan and the woman coming inside. "Sorry for the wait," Ryan apologizes as he sits opposite Deeks. He sets the folder to the side and folds his hands in his lap.

"No problem," Deeks lies, his eyes glancing to the woman and the supplies in her hands. "What's with your friend?"

Ryan gestures to the woman, his smile growing warm as though he's introducing two old friends. "Detective Marty Deeks, this is Sarah. She's a lab tech here to do a drug test."

And that definitely catches Deeks' attention. "Drug test? I thought me being here wasn't about me being a suspect."

"I also said it was to tie up a few loose ends," Ryan reminds him.

Deeks looks at the man indignantly. "And how is me peeing in a cup tying up loose ends?"

"For starters, you won't be peeing in a cup," Ryan corrects, causing Deeks to look at the tech and her kit, his eyes zeroing in on the empty vials used to take blood. His attention's brought back to Ryan as the detective continues to speak. "And we found drugs in your car."

"What?" Deeks asks, completely caught off guard.

"Heroin," Ryan clarifies. "In your trunk."

"Did it ever cross your mind that it belonged to the dead guy?" Deeks ask, pointing out what he sees as being the obvious answer.

"It did," Ryan admits honestly. He taps his fingers over the folder he had set to the side, his posture adopting a look of discomfort. "But you and I both know I have to make sure. It'd be best to clear your name before IA gets a whiff of this."

And just when Deeks was starting to think it couldn't get any worse…

Deeks can tell Ryan notices his flinch at the mention of Internal Affairs. After his last run-in with them, Deeks had kind of hoped to avoid anything and everything to do with IA.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Deeks," Ryan begins, "I asked around about you. I got mixed reviews. Some like you, some say you're a pain in the ass, _but_ they all say you're a good cop."

Deeks keeps quiet, forcing himself to take calming breaths through his nose, trying to keep his anger and hurt under control. He does _not_ like his current predicament.

"Now, as much as I'd like to believe you, I can't just take your word that the drugs aren't yours. I have to have proof." Ryan nods in the direction of Sarah the Tech. "IA's gonna want proof."

"You can look for track marks," Deeks suggests hopefully.

"And what if you had smoked it?" Ryan counters, pointing out the flaw in Deeks suggestion.

Deeks tilts his head and points to his mouth. "And mess up these pearly whites?"

Ryan shakes his head and laughs. "You're a handful, you know that Deeks?"

Deeks shrugs, giving Ryan his best _what-can-I-say _smile, equal parts cocky and cute. Ryan returns the smile, leaning in, his elbows resting on the table. "Despite what you may think Deeks, I don't want you to be guilty. I don't like the idea of a dirty cop, it makes us all look bad. If you really are innocent, that mean's I'm doing nothing more than playing Devil's Advocate. Now, I don't want to have this thing make its way to Internal Affairs, and I'm sure you don't either, so…"

Deeks pulls his lower lip into his mouth, letting it rest between his teeth as he listens to Ryan's friendly threats. Realizing he is yet again left with no choice, he stands and pulls off his jacket, revealing his arm for the technician to take a blood sample.

"Thank you, Detective," Ryan says, his tone sounding sincere.

"Yeah well, I still would have preferred to piss in a cup," Deeks says, closing his eyes and turning his head, his free hand grasping the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip as he reclaims his seat.

"Are you afraid of needles?" the technician asks as she rubs a cold, alcohol-covered gauze over the bend of Deeks' elbow, her tone slightly amused.

"Nope," Deeks says, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "I just _really_ like peeing in a cup."

He hears both the tech and Ryan chuckle before he feels the prick. He tightly clenches his jaw, all his attention focused on the feel of the table beneath his shaking grip, trying his best to ignore anything happening on his left side.

"All done," the tech says, pulling the needle out of his arm and pressing a piece of cotton to his skin. "Hold this."

Deeks does as he's told, his eyes no longer squeezed shut, but still not open.

"Are you gonna pass out?" he hears the tech ask, and he shakes his head no, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

"Do you need to lie down?" she asks, her hand resting on his shoulder. "I can get you some juice…"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but please stop talking," Deeks pleads with her, his tone short and blunt. She squeezes his shoulder once before finishing gathering her equipment and the blood samples.

When he hears the door close, signaling the tech's departure, Deeks leans forward, letting his cheek rest on the cool tabletop.

"You sure you don't have a problem with needles?" Ryan jests, his tone light.

"Shut up," Deeks mumbles with an embarrassed laugh. He swears if he wasn't running on a forced-empty stomach and a headache, the little bit of blood loss would not have been a problem.

"Marty?" Ryan asks, his somber tone causing Deeks to look up. "That's gonna come back clean, right?"

"Yeah, it's gonna come back clean," Deeks assures him.

"Good," Ryan says, grabbing the folder and sliding it in front of him. "Now, about that timeline…"

"What about it?" Deeks asks, sitting back, his finger tracing around the bandage Sarah the Tech had used to hide her target practice.

Ryan opens the folder and pulls out a still-frame photo of what Deeks recognizes as the inside of Murphy's bar. Deeks pulls it to him, noticing the time stamp reading "2:36 AM" in the bottom corner. The picture shows Deeks standing, most of his weight leaning against the bar, Nell's hand resting lightly on his arm.

"Security footage confirms you got to the bar a few minutes after midnight, and that you left a little after two thirty in the morning," Ryan tells him, sounding like the detective he is.

Deeks cuts his eyes to the man, not liking the shift in tone. Ryan must notice, because he smiles again. "Devil's advocate, remember?" he reminds Deeks, before continuing.

"Now, you just so happened to park in a blind spot, meaning we can't see when or who put the body in your trunk," Ryan explains. "_If _the body was put there while the car was in the lot."

"If?" Deeks questions incredulously. "When else would it have been put there?"

"Coroner says that—" Whatever the coroner had said, Deeks doesn't get to hear thanks to the rapid knock on the door and the sight of Callen pushing his way inside.

"Who are you?" Ryan asks, standing as Callen steps to the table, a folder of his own in his hand.

Deeks smiles, mimicking Ryan's earlier tone as he makes his own introductions. "Detective Richard Ryan, this is Special Agent G Callen. Callen, meet Detective Ryan, a.k.a. the Devil's Advocate."

Callen tosses Deeks a questioning glance, but ignores the last statement as he pulls out a seat and sits beside his friend. Ryan, obviously having not expected the sudden interruption, reclaims his seat.

"Are you here to act as his lawyer?" Ryan asks Callen jokingly, pointing to Deeks. Callen smiles and shakes his head.

"Actually, he's the lawyer," he tells Ryan as he sets the folder he brought in on the table, "But I am _his _advocate."

Deeks looks back and forth between the two men, his fingers itching to grab both Callen and Ryan's folders and figure out what the hell's going on. Apparently, Ryan's just as interested in Callen's folder as Deeks is, because he jerks his chin in the folder's direction and says, "Looks like you came prepared."

"I did," Callen confirms, pushing the folder to Ryan. Deeks chews on his lip as he tries to subtly stretch his neck in an effort to see what's in the folder. He's forced to settle for watching Ryan's frown take on an edge of confusion with each page he turns.

"According to the autopsy report," Callen begins, unknowingly picking up where Ryan had left off before being interrupted, "the time of death was around nine PM, three hours before Deeks even made it to the bar."

Deeks lets his own frown form at that bit of information, but Callen doesn't give him a chance to ask any questions.

"Now, Detective Deeks was in the Valley at the time of death, with plenty of witnesses, meaning Deeks obviously didn't kill your victim," Callen continues, leaning forward and turning a page in the folder. "The coroner states that the body shows signs of having been moved post-mortem, meaning the man had been dead long before he was placed in Deeks' trunk."

"How do you know this?" Ryan asks, flipping through the pages. "You've got the autopsy report, a record of his GPS, hell…you even have the vic's information in here."

"Nell?" Deeks guesses, looking to Callen for an answer.

"And Eric," Callen confirms.

"Who is Eric?" Ryan asks, glancing up from the informative file.

Deeks smiles and makes his hand puppet gesture again. "Nell's friend," he says, causing Callen to shake his head.

Ryan leans back in his seat, pushing the folder away as he rubs a finger in one eye. "GPS shows that Deeks' car was stationary for over twenty-four hours before going to the bar. So, the body was either put in the trunk while it was at your work place, or it happened at the bar."

"And our security footage shows that no one went near his car during those twenty-four hours," Callen says, making Deeks think the guy'd have made a pretty decent lawyer.

Ryan opens his mouth as though he's about to say something, but is forced to close it when nothing comes to mind.

Deeks props his chin in his hand, his elbow resting on the table. "You think that will be enough for IA?" he asks Ryan, one eyebrow arched questioningly.

"Pfft, it's enough for me," Ryan says with what Deeks believes is the first true smile he's seen since meeting the man.

"So," Ryan asks, rubbing his hands through his hair, "Why was the body put in your trunk?"

Deeks shakes his head and leans back in his seat. "I don't know. Convenience maybe? I mean your guess is as good as mine."

"But was it just bad luck? Just a coincidence that they happened to pick a cop's car or were they waiting for you?" Callen asks Deeks.

"It has to have been a coincidence," Deeks says, "No one knew I was going to be at that bar. Hell, _I_ didn't even know I was going until I left work. Definitely didn't know I would be leaving my car behind."

"So, I'm back at square one," Ryan says tiredly, before looking up at Deeks. "Well, I guess I've never really left square one, since we knew you were innocent the whole time."

"Of course," Deeks says, pretending to believe Ryan's assertions. "Now what?"

"Now, I try to figure out who killed David Oran and why they decided to dump him in your car when the ocean was less than three miles away," Ryan tells him, his tone making it clear he isn't looking forward to the task.

"So, we're free to go?" Callen says in a way that lets Deeks know he already knows the answer, but is most likely asking out of professional courtesy.

"Yeah, you're free to go," Ryan tells him, standing and extending his hand. "I really didn't want you to have anything to do with this," he says to Deeks. "I just had to make sure."

"I get it, man," Deeks confesses. "I'd have probably done the same thing were I in your shoes." Even though he hates to admit it, he knows it's the truth. He learned a long time ago not to take people at their words, whether they're one of the good guys or not.

A quick good-bye and Deeks is following Callen out the door, navigating their way through the crowded bullpen and lobby. Once outside, Deeks flinches as Callen's hand meets the back of his head.

"What the hell was that for?" Deeks asks, rubbing the spot Callen had just hit.

"That was from Hetty," Callen happily explains. "And me. Why the hell weren't we called the moment you found a dead guy in your car?"

"Because it had nothing to do with you," Deeks points out, yet again. "Today was supposed to be our day off."

"Yeah, well Kensi and Nell called, each freaked out that you were being questioned in a murder." Callen pulls out his phone and hits speed dial. "Next thing I know, our day off is spent solidifying your alibi. It's like we can't leave you alone for five minutes—yeah, Hetty. We're leaving now," he says into the phone when Hetty picks up.

"Would have sorted it all out eventually," Deeks defends petulantly, muttering as Callen continues to talk to Hetty.

"A 'thank you' would work just fine," Callen tells him, ending the phone call and reaching for his keys. His smile falters as they enter the parking deck, his car coming into view.

"Hey!" he hollers, and Deeks looks up to see the janitor in the navy-blue shirt peaking into Callen's window.

"This your car?" the man asks, backing up, his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, it is." Callen stops walking forward, waiting for what the man will do next.

"Chill man," the janitor says in a thick Hispanic accent. "I was just looking. It's a nice car."

Callen nods, still studying the man with a look of suspicion. "Thanks." The janitor cocks his head back and smiles before turning away. "Come on. Lets go," Callen finally says, shaking off whatever thoughts he had.

"Where are we going?" Deeks asks, his head turned to watch the janitor disappear into a stairwell.

"Our home away from home," Callen tells him, starting the engine. "Hetty wants to talk to you." He waits until Deeks is seated in the car before tacking on, "In person."

"Why not," Deeks says, clicking his seatbelt in place. "Day's been great so far."

Callen simply smirks as he steers the car out of the parking deck, easing it into the heavy mid-afternoon traffic. Deeks feels his phone start to vibrate as Callen reaches forward and turns up the air-conditioner.

"Hey, Kens," Deeks says as he answers the phone, not even needing to look at the caller ID to know it's her.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice echoing, alerting Deeks to the fact that she's got him on speaker.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he tells her, turning his head to pop his neck, regretting it when the act makes him dizzy. "I hear I have you and Nell to thank for the cavalry." He watches the buildings go by out the window, watches as construction forces Callen to take a detour.

"No need to thank us," Nell says, making her presence known. "Some of us were already working on it."

Deeks laughs, or he tries to at least, but he feels dizzy again, forcing the laugh to be cut short.

"Deeks?" he hears Kensi ask worriedly.

"I'm fine," he says, but he's almost positive it came out a slur. He turns his head to look for Callen, to tell him he thinks he's just lied to his partner. But Callen isn't looking much better. His head is down, shaking from side to side as though he's trying to clear the cobwebs.

Three seconds later, Deeks is aware of two things—his name being yelled through the phone's speaker, and the feel of Callen's car hitting something hard. Then, he isn't aware of anything at all.

TBC…

**A/N: **Dun. Dun. Dun…


	4. Deja Vu

**A/N: **I'm not a sadist, or at least I don't think I am, _but_ I did get a lot of joy out of the reaction to the last chapter's cliff hanger. I'm serious, I even heard an evil laugh break loose at one point. But to make it up to everyone, I worked extra hard to get this chapter written so you wouldn't have to wait more than 24 hours.

I know I haven't responded to many of your reviews yet. Please don't let that make you think that I don't care about them. I am deeply grateful you have all decided to take the time to review. But I purposefully put my phone away so I wouldn't be distracted so I could finish this chapter, and I about fell out of my chair when I finally checked my email. I've _never_ had that big of a response for a chapter before. Awesome doesn't even begin to describe how you all have made me feel.

And just a heads up—I can now write about concussions with experience.

**Chapter 4:** Déja Vu

Callen knows for a fact that waking up in an unfamiliar bathtub is not a good thing. He may not know how he got in said bathtub, but he definitely knows that his presence there is not good.

Neither is the monumental headache or stiff knee.

It's one of those bathtub-shower combos, the ones made out of fiberglass and present in almost every manufactured, cookie cutter home since the 1980s. The little metal rings used to hold the shower curtain in place are distributed across the rod over his head, sans curtain.

Except for him and the necessary fixtures, the bathroom is completely empty. No shampoo bottles, razor, toothbrush, fuzzy toilet-seat cover—nothing. The only light in the room is filtering from beneath the door, and it's a sign of how intense his headache is that Callen can't even tell if it's sunlight or fluorescent.

"Damn it," he mutters, squeezing his eyes to get his bearings straight, trying to get the room to stop freaking moving. He's propped against the wall of the tub, his right leg hanging over the edge as his left stretches out before him, bending at the knee as his foot reaches the other wall. Wincing as he brings his other leg into the tub, he blinks in confusion when he realizes he's only wearing one shoe.

It isn't until he hears a subtle bump coming from another room that he notices the absence of his gun, or any weapon for that matter. He carefully stands, using the towel rack and soap holder as leverage, his ears focused for another bump.

He pads across the floor, one shoe on, one shoe MIA. Even rolling his feet to minimize the sound, he can hear the distinct difference with each step as rubber sole interchanges with cottoned sock.

The bathroom door is cracked, no other sounds drifting through what he now knows to be a house. The windows are bare, no curtains or blinds in place to block out the nosey neighbors. The bathroom opens up into a hallway with dark hardwood floors, the walls absent of all decoration, the distant rooms void of any furniture. The house appears to be abandoned. All except for Callen and the once audible bump.

-:-

Waking up and struggling to remember a dream you're not even certain you had is similar to waking up on an unfamiliar floor with no memory of how you got there. Both cause confusion and a tangible sense of annoyance as hints of sought after answers slip through foggy memories.

Turns out that waking up with a concussion feels a lot like waking up with a hangover—the kind that says someone had way too much fun. Both bring about nausea, dizziness, and a skull-splitting headache.

Deeks is quickly learning all of this as he opens his eyes to the darkened room around him, the short fibers of the carpeted floor causing the exposed skin on his back to itch. He's lying near the wall, his shirt tangled around his chest as though someone pulled him into the room by his ankles. Deeks slowly realizes that this is the second time in twenty-four hours that he's woken up with no idea of where he is or how he got there.

He tentatively turns his head only to find another wall about four feet away. The small amount of light shining beneath the only door provides enough illumination for him to realize he's actually in a large, walk in closet. Empty shelves line the wall adjacent to the door, and two empty hangers dangle above his head on the metal bar extending across the small room.

He stares for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what happened. Last thing he remembers was…something.

He knows it's already gone, but out of instinct, or training, or maybe even fear, Deeks' hand automatically goes to where his gun should be. He even goes so far as to roll on his side so his fingers can find the empty space at the small of his back, confirming what his confused mind already knows.

Seeing as how he's already halfway there, he continues the rolling motion, the intended goal to land on his hands and knees so he can have a go at gravity and show her who's boss. Too bad she's not in a friendly mood. As soon as his head changes positions, gravity decides to kick ass and take names, and the first name on that list…Marty Deeks.

If anyone were to ask, Deeks would describe the sensation as feeling as though someone slid there fingers between his skull and brain and decided to squeeze, compressing that all too vital grey matter into a painful ball of mush.

And that's when he throws up.

The bile is bitter and leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth, the pressure behind his eyes beyond monumental. It's as though one of Kensi's techno beats decided to have an impromptu dance session, an all-for-one kill Marty rave right above his sinus cavity.

Spitting what's left in his mouth onto the now stained carpet, Deeks squeezes his eyes once more before opening them and slowly turning his head to the door, one hand already reaching for the handle.

The bedroom is bright, the late afternoon sunlight bathing the empty room. Using the doorframe for support, Deeks stands, only stumbling once as his weight inadvertently leans against the door, pushing it the rest of the way so it bumps against the adjoining wall.

It's obvious the house was once lived in, but is now vacant. Water stains on the ceiling, worn edges on the carpet. Looking through the window, Deeks can see what looks to be a standard back yard, the grass in need of cutting.

"Alright Marty, what the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?" he asks, his eyes still squinted as he studies the neglected back yard. Realizing he can't stay in the room forever, he turns and wishes like crazy that the room had more to offer. He isn't exactly comfortable walking out into the hopefully empty house without any form of defense.

Careful of the small puddle slowly drying on the closet floor, he gathers the two wire hangers and quietly makes his way to the bedroom door.

He eases the door open a few inches, relieved when the hinges don't squeak. From what he can see, the door seems to open up into a hallway. Before he can work up the nerve to pull the door open the rest of the way, someone beats him to it, forcing the door open with surprising strength, knocking Deeks back.

Next thing Deeks knows, he's being pushed into the wall, a forearm pressed into his neck, cutting off his air. Acting on his reflexes, he raises the hanger, letting the hook press into the skin at his attacker's throat just above the pulse point.

"Deeks?"

And just because the day wasn't weird enough, once the dizziness fades and his brain stops reverberating in his skull thanks to being pushed into a wall, Deeks can focus on the face of the man attempting to choke him.

"'allen?" Deeks manages to get out, immediately lowering the hanger. Callen takes a step back, his hand going to the red scratch at his neck as Deeks takes a much appreciative breath of air. "You trying to kill me?"

"Sorry," Callen says, pulling his hand away from his neck to check for blood. "I didn't know who you were."

"Yeah, so the natural thing to do would be attack first and ask questions later," Deeks retorts sarcastically, massaging his sore throat.

Callen shrugs and begins to look around the empty bedroom. "It's kept me alive so far," he says, and Deeks doesn't even bother asking him to elaborate.

His headache intensified thanks to Callen, Deeks slumps against the wall, his knees locking to keep him from hitting the floor. "Can I ask you something?" he says, tracking Callen's movements around the room.

"Where are we?" he asks when Callen gives him a small nod.

"No idea," Callen answers, peering out the window into the overgrown yard.

"Okay," Deeks says, having feared as much. "And I'm gonna take a wild guess that you don't remember how we got here either?"

Callen turns and rests his finger against the side of his nose, crooked grin in place. "Got it in one. But the good news is I think we're alone."

Deeks fights the urge to shake his head, knowing it wouldn't end well. He lets out a derisive laugh as he lets his knees bend, slowly easing his way down the wall to sit on the floor. When he sees Callen reach for the closet door handle, he waves a cautionary hand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he says a beat too late. Callen opens the door enough to see the mess on the floor before pushing it back closed, a worried frown now on his face.

"You okay?" he asks Deeks, looking him over for any hidden injuries.

Deeks bends one knee and props his elbow on it, before resting his head in his hand. "Define 'okay'."

He can hear Callen walking towards him and looks up when he notices the odd sound of the normally familiar gait. "Where's your shoe?" Deeks asks as Callen kneels in front of him, and Deeks suddenly realizes that Callen looks like crap. His eyes are creased in pain and bloodshot, his forehead red and slightly swollen. "And what happened to your head?"

Callen had been reaching forward to check Deeks for injury when Deeks' question catches him off guard. "What do you mean what happened to my head?"

Deeks points to Callen's forehead near the hairline. "It looks like you hit something," he explains, squinting as he tries to force his eyes to focus. "A steering wheel maybe? Were we in a car?"

Callen's confused frown shifts back to one of worry. He immediately reaches forward and grabs Deeks' chin, turning his head so he can examine the detective's eyes. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Deeks groans and closes his eyes, turning away from Callen's inspection. "Do you know how many times I've been asked that today?"

"Just answer the question Deeks," Callen orders, letting go of his chin.

Deeks sighs heavily, and opens his eyes, studying a spot on the floor as he searches his memory. "I remember talking with Ryan, and you showed up."

Callen shifts so that he's sitting on the ground, his stiff knee stretching out in front. "We left the station and got in my car," he says, filling in the blanks in Deeks' memory. "I think we were drugged, because…I remember being dizzy and I think—son of a bitch, I think we wrecked my car," he mutters, rubbing his hands over his face.

"And your shoe?" Deeks prompts, once again noticing the difference between Callen's two feet.

"Probably wherever my phone, badge, and gun are," Callen answers, looking up and meeting Deeks' eyes.

"Yeah, mine are gone, too," Deeks tells him, raising a hand to massage his head. He winces, hissing loudly as his fingers touch a tender spot just above his right temple.

"What is it?" Callen asks, having seen the wince.

"Nothing," Deeks quickly says, letting his hand fall back to his lap. Much to his chagrin, Callen ignores him and reaches forward, gently touching the sore spot.

"You've got a big ass knot," Callen observes, and Deeks is thankful when he doesn't apply any more pressure than is necessary. "It's not bleeding though, so that's good. It's probably what caused you to throw up."

"Or it could be me reacting badly to being drugged," Deeks says, hazarding a guess. "How the hell did that happen by the way?"

"I don't know how, but I'm willing to bet our friend in the blue shirt had something to do with it," Callen says. When he sees the confusion written all over Deeks' face, he tries to clarify. "When we were leaving the station, there was this Hispanic guy sneaking around my car."

"Was he dressed like a janitor?" Deeks asks, a hint of memory coming back to him.

"Yep," Callen says, using the wall for support as he stands. Deeks frowns when as he watches Callen rise from the ground, noticing the way the man favors his right leg.

"You okay?" Deeks asks, gesturing to Callen's knee. Callen waves off his concern, extending his hand in an offer to help Deeks off the ground.

"It's just a little stiff," Callen admits as he pulls Deeks up. He reaches forward and pushes Deeks against the wall again, this time to insure that the detective stays standing. Deeks appreciates the gesture, especially since the sudden change in elevation kick starts a sudden case of vertigo.

"I'm good," he finally says, signaling that it's okay for Callen to let him go.

"Alright," Callen says, and Deeks can hear him switch gears, falling into Agent-mode. "We gotta figure out how we're gonna get out of here. We get back to Ops, we can figure out what the hell happened."

Deeks agrees whole-heartedly, keeping his confused thoughts to himself, letting Callen lead the way as they walk down the empty hall. They're heading for the front door, the logical direction to go when something on the kitchen floor catches Deeks' wondering attention.

"Is that your shoe?" he asks, pointing to the boot lying on the linoleum. It's lying next to an empty space that once housed an oven judging by the wiring and gas line sticking out of the floor.

Callen doesn't answer, he simply walks forward and picks it up, looking around the kitchen with a new sense of confusion. "No sign of our phones or guns," he says as he leans against the counter and puts the shoe on.

"Huh?" Deeks says, thinking out loud as he opens the door next to the oven space.

"What is it?" Callen asks, his interest piqued.

"A pantry," Deeks says disappointedly before turning to the other door in the kitchen. He knows right away that it's not a pantry based on the large deadbolt placed above the handle. Pulling it open, he's forced to squint in order to make out anything in the darkened room. "It's a garage," he finally says as his eyes land on the outline of an old car.

"Think it'll have keys?" he asks over his shoulder, knowing Callen is right behind him.

"With our luck?" Callen scoffs, stepping into the garage and reaching to open the car's driver door. To both their surprise, the door opens, the car's interior light illuminating the inside of the car. "No keys," Callen calls out after a quick inspection.

Deeks steps forward just as Callen begins looking around the nearly empty garage. "Why would a car be in an abandoned house?" he asks, opening the passenger seat and sitting inside. He immediately begins snooping, searching the glove box and center console. He finds nothing more exciting than an old pair of nail clippers and a few condoms.

He looks up when Callen comes back to the car, reaching inside to turn the headlights on. "What are you doing?" Deeks asks as Callen returns to his search of the garage's few boxes.

"Looking for something sharp, like a knife. No keys means we gotta hotwire the car," Callen explains, never stopping his search. Deeks looks back at the glove box, his eyebrow arching in consideration.

"Would these work?" he asks, holding the nail clippers up for Callen to see. "I've also got a couple of condoms if you think you can pull a kinky-MacGyver move," he adds on with a smile.

"Lets try the clippers first," Callen says, returning the smile as he joins Deeks in the car. Deeks hands the clippers to Callen, content to watch as Callen works to pull the wiring out from beneath the steering column. He's so intent on watching Callen strip the wires that he almost doesn't catch the pinched frown of pain.

"Hey, man. You good?" he asks, as Callen begins to strip another set of wires.

"Just a headache," Callen assures him, trying to determine which wires go to the starter and which to the battery. "I'm fine."

"'kay," Deeks says in sympathy, his hand once again finding the giant knot on his head. He's pretty sure he has a concussion, not a bad one, but still…He's also pretty sure Callen's thinking the same thing, hence the impromptu exam earlier. Only wanting to face one problem at a time, Deeks forces the issue from his mind and focuses his tired eyes on the many wires Callen now has stripped.

Deeks knows that Callen's head is probably hurting more than he's letting on, because it takes him several minutes before he manages to get the car started.

"See if you can get the door open," Callen says with a self-satisfied smile as he twists the wires together. Deeks quickly jumps out of the car and makes his way to the garage door. The car's taillights provide enough light for him to find the switch on the wall, but thanks to no electricity, it's perfectly useless.

Deeks bends down, forcing himself not to throw up again, and lifts the door open, the sound of the rollers and metal door echoing in the confined space. Sunlight bathes the garage now, and Deeks steps aside so Callen can back the old car out. Once the car's clear, Deeks pulls on the garage door, letting gravity help it fall the rest of the way before joining Callen back in the car.

Now that they're out of the house, they look around, the few houses and empty street not giving them any clue as to where they are. There aren't any people in the yards, no other cars parked in the street. Deeks realizes he might be a little paranoid, but he really doesn't feel like going and knocking on anyone's door. Being drugged and apparently kidnapped tends to make one a little distrustful of others.

"Look familiar?" Deeks asks as Callen begins driving west, that direction seeming as good as any.

Callen squints his eyes against the bright sun and shakes his head, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "We'll drive until we see a gas station, then we'll call Eric and get him to tell us where the hell we are."

After a few blocks, the houses begin to get nicer, the neighborhood better kept. Out of sheer luck, Deeks spots a sign, alerting them to their location. "Dude, I think we're near Sherman Oaks," he says, leaning towards the window. He accidentally bumps the swollen knot against the glass, and he gets a funny feeling that that's what had happened the first time around.

"This isn't Sherman Oaks," Callen argues, looking at the neighborhood.

"I said _near_ Sherman Oaks," Deeks defends, gently rubbing his tender scalp. "Turn left up here, the 405 should be close." Callen doesn't argue anymore, he simply turns as Deeks had instructed, easing the car onto another street.

Despite the speed bumps, Callen maintains his speed, his anger at their situation and his headache making him more than a little cranky. The first speed bump isn't so bad, doing nothing more than making the car's worn shocks squeak and Deeks' head throb. The second bump, though, makes the first look like a friendly warning. The shocks outright _whine_ as the car bounces over them, Deeks reaching up for the grab handle, making him feel as though he's riding with Kensi again.

Apparently, the rough bounce had been just as hard on Callen, because he immediately slows his speed. "Sorry," he apologizes, pressing the break as they approach the next bump in the road.

Deeks isn't listening to him though, all his attention being focused on the back seat. He closes his eyes and listens as they drive over the speed bump, but he hears nothing other than the squeaking shocks. He turns back around, facing Callen.

"Callen, I don't mean to worry you or anything, but I think there might be a body in the trunk." Deeks says, matter of factly.

Callen casts him a quick glance before looking back towards the road. "What?"

"I heard a thump before," Deeks explains, gesturing to the back of the car with his thumb. "When you went over that last speed bump like a bat outta hell, there was a thump."

Callen looks at him again, a look of doubt on his face. Instead of questioning Deeks' reasoning, Callen takes his foot off the break, applying extra pressure to the accelerator. Deeks reaches for the grab hold bar, nearly standing in his seat as Callen drives the car over the next speed bump.

When the muffled thump sounds over the squeaking shocks, Deeks sighs heavily before meeting Callen's eyes. "Now, I'm not saying I'm an expert, but…I actually do know what a body bouncing around in a trunk sounds like, and that…" he says, thumb once again pointing to the back seat. "_That_ sounded like a body in a trunk."

Callen shakes his head, a tolerant smile in place as he eases the car to the side of the road. He leaves it running as he pops the trunk, Deeks climbing out of the car with him to check it out.

Deeks silently prays that it's nothing more than a loose spare tire, maybe even a set of luggage or something. But as Callen lifts the lid, Deeks feels his _I-told-you-so_ face fall into place.

The body is in the fetal position, the head covered by an army-green jacket, the chest riddled with bullets holes, the shell casings littered about the trunk.

"Is that your jacket?" Callen asks, and for the first time, Deeks realizes he's in only a t-shirt.

"Damn it," Deeks mumbles as he realizes that it is, in fact his jacket. Using his thumb and forefinger, Deeks reaches forward and lifts the jacket enough for them to see the dead man's face.

"Do you recognize him?" Deeks asks, looking to Callen. Callen shakes his head and Deeks drops the jacket back in place. Deeks is about to close the trunk lid when Callen suddenly reaches forward, stopping him.

"Deeks," he says solemnly, leaning into the trunk. Deeks follows Callen's line of sight, his stomach sinking when he realizes what Callen is looking at.

"These are the same caliber as your gun," Callen observes, using his blunt thumbnail to turn over one of the bullet casings.

Deeks turns away, his head tilted back as he rests his hands on his hips. "Damn it to hell," he mutters, closing his eyes. He had just been through this once already, and this time looks like it's going to be even worse.

TBC…


	5. Not the Information You're Looking For

**A/N:** In case anyone was wondering, Nell will be playing a bigger part in this story in the upcoming chapters. Just so you know.

**Chapter 5: **Not the Information You Were Hoping For

Stress is one of those things Deeks is intimately familiar with, has been ever since he was a child. It varies in ranges of severity, but it has always been present. Most times, he tries to ignore it, to brush it off with a joke and then move on. He doesn't think that's gonna work this time.

He and Callen have already discussed every possibility they can during the forty-five minute drive, each trying their best to come up with an explanation that would make any sense. So far, Deeks hasn't liked any of Callen's theories, each sounding too morose, and at times out right scary.

As the smell of the ocean starts to make it's way into the opened windows, the wind causing Deeks' hair to flap around wildly as he leans his face into the breeze, he tries to focus on what needs to be done, on the fact that Callen had assured him everything will turn out okay. But Deeks being Deeks, his twisted mind is focused on one thing and one thing alone. He remembers when he was younger hearing someone say a joke that involved a body in the trunk, something about the only way a criminal's going to obey the law is if he's got a body in the back.

Callen doesn't seem to be worried about getting pulled over, because his speed hasn't faltered once during the trip, the needle remaining a steady ten miles over the speed limit. In a weird, twisted, semi-morbid kind of way, it makes Deeks want to laugh, because they're cops, not criminals, yet they're speeding _and_ they've got a body in the back. It's a weird world, but Deeks keeps the laugh at bay because he knows it would only make him sound like a maniac. It's one of those "_if you can't laugh at yourself_" situations, except there isn't really anything about what's happening that Deeks actually finds truly funny.

At some point in time, his eyes had slipped closed, the rhythm of the road and the cool air relaxing him into a type of trance. As the car comes to a stop, Deeks opens his eyes, the fender of the old car parked mere inches from the outer wall of the boathouse.

Callen had been the one to change the plan. After finding the body and the bullet casings, he immediately decided to forego any stops, choosing instead to drive straight to the boathouse, to 'home turf' as he had put it. He had told Deeks to get back in the car, saying that they'd call Detective Ryan, but only after they had spoken to Hetty.

The sun is almost gone, the bright shades of orange and pink that usually signal a Californian sunset have disappeared, leaving behind that semi-grey tone that Deeks has always associated with scary movies. According to his watch, he and Callen had been in that house for several hours, meaning the team is bound to have noticed their absence.

As Callen cuts the engine and climbs out of the car, Deeks notices that he's still favoring his right knee, causing the normally graceful agent to walk with a slight limp. When Callen turns around, giving Deeks a look that clearly screams '_are you coming?_' Deeks opens the passenger door and proceeds to follow his temporary partner inside.

The lights are off in the boathouse, that horror-film grey filtering through the upper windows. Deeks blinks his eyes, his hand rising to act as a shield when Callen clicks the switch, illuminating the main room.

"Kinda thought someone would be here," Deeks says absently, not realizing he had spoken out loud until Callen answers.

"Not here means they're probably out looking for us." Callen wastes no time, immediately going to the phone on the table. Following Callen's lead, Deeks walks forward and turns on the monitor, the emblem for NCIS lighting the screen.

Callen sits on the table, his feet resting on one of the chairs as he hits speed-dial. It rings once before they hear Eric answer in a somewhat hesitant tone. "Hello?"

"Eric, it's Callen. Deeks and I are at the boathouse," Callen says, rolling his neck on his shoulders, wincing as the vertebrae pop.

Deeks actually jumps as the emblem on the screen disappears, revealing Ops and a _very_ frustrated looking Eric Beale.

"Where. The. Hell. Have you guys been?" Eric asks, his hands opened, shaking to emphasize each word. Deeks can't help thinking the guy looks a little manic. Before either Callen or Deeks can answer, Eric releases a heavy sigh and lets his hands run through his hair.

"We've been looking all over for you guys," he says, shaking his head as he reaches for a phone. "We found your car, Sam and Kensi have been going crazy, they're with Ryan now trying to—"

"Eric," Callen interrupts sternly, getting the tech's attention and ending his nervous rambling. Eric looks up, his eyes a little wide as if he just realized he'd been talking. "We need to talk to Hetty. Now," Callen says, a little nicer but still just as serious.

Eric gestures to the phone in his hand, a 'duh' look playing out beneath the wide eyes. "Who do you think I'm calling?" he says with a nervous smile that disappears the moment the other line is answered. A quick "Hetty, I found them," and he's looking at the receiver confusedly before hanging it up without another word.

"What'd she say?" Deeks asks, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"She didn't," Eric tells him. "She hung up." A few moments later, they learn why.

The doors to Ops open, Hetty walking in, managing to appear both calm and concerned at the same time. Her brow is pinched as she approaches the screen, her gaze darting back and forth from Deeks to Callen, doing a quick survey.

"Are you gentlemen okay?" she asks as Eric scoots his chair over, giving her room to see.

"We're good," Callen assures her, shrugging off her concerned gaze. "But we do have a problem."

"I would say we do, Mr. Callen," she agrees, her gaze shifting to Deeks. "Would you like to go first or shall I?"

Callen and Deeks look to one another, both a little alarmed, neither having expected that particular response. "Go first for what?" Deeks asks slowly.

Hetty clasps her hands behind her back, her head tilting as she answers. "Going first in sharing our bad news, Mr. Deeks."

Once again not expecting Hetty's answer, Callen and Deeks share another look, ending in a baffled shrug from Deeks.

Callen looks back to the screen, his tone bland as he goes first. "We were drugged, and left in an abandoned house outside Sherman Oaks. When we woke up, we found a body in the trunk of the car we…borrowed."

"Another body, in addition to the one found in Mr. Deeks' trunk earlier today?" Hetty asks, insuring she's getting the facts straight.

Callen nods before continuing. "And, it looks like someone's trying to make it look like we're to blame."

"Your turn," Deeks says tiredly, turning his attention from Callen to the pair on the screen. He can tell by the nervous way Eric scratches the back of his neck that whatever Hetty's about to say is the really bad kind of bad.

"I heard from a Detective Ryan," Hetty informs them. "You failed your drug test, Mr. Deeks."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

By the time the last car pulls away, the sky has long been black. LAPD had collected the body and the car, as well as both Callen and Deeks' clothes, combing them for evidence. Thanks to Sam and Kensi, they now have more clothes and backup service weapons. Apparently, those few hours Deeks and Callen were gone were more than enough time for things to get done.

Deeks and Callen each lean against the table, both holding ice-packs to separate parts of their heads as they listen to their team mates and Detective Ryan fill them in on what they've missed.

"I tried calling you when I got the results," Ryan says helping himself to a cup of coffee before joining the others at the table, and Deeks is immediately reminded of his first time in the boathouse. "When your phone kept going to voicemail, I called your partner who was kind enough to introduce me to Hetty," he finishes, sounding as though actually meeting Hetty had been an intimidating ordeal.

"And other than a big 'FAIL', what did the results say?" Deeks asks, both relieved and angry at the news. On the one hand, he hadn't gotten out of control and drank himself into oblivion, but on the other…

"Basically, it's a lot like a roofie," Ryan explains, "Some new drug that's been keeping Vice busy the last few months. And the fact that it was mixed with alcohol, well, it's no wonder you blacked out. By the way, you left that part out during our little interview," he adds on sarcastically.

"It never came up," Deeks defends lamely. Ryan just rolls his eyes as he continues to sip his coffee.

Nell ignores both detectives' sarcasm and continues with the explanation. "After Detective Ryan spoke with Hetty, he was kind enough to send us the security footage from the bar." She looks to the screen where Eric can still be seen, signaling for him to proceed.

Eric presses a few keys before the screen changes, the footage from the bar taking up the majority of the screen, Eric's small window resting in the corner. "Eric and I went back through it and found this," Nell explains, once again signaling to Eric.

There's no audio, but the footage clearly shows Deeks sitting at the bar, talking to a blonde bartender. "That's Anna," Deeks supplies, knowing her name from previous visits.

"She's not who you should be watching," Sam says, standing and pointing at a second bartender. "He is. His name's John Ruiz."

Deeks watches the man, trying to remember if he had seen him on any of his other visits to Murphy's pub. At first, Deeks keeps waiting for something drastic to happen, for the man to do something obscene. Instead, he watches as Anna the bartender walks away to tend to another guest, leaving Ruiz the mystery bartender to place a drink in front of Deeks.

"We watched all two and a half hours of footage," Nell says, pulling Deeks' attention from the screen. "From what we can see, you didn't start acting 'drunk' until after you drank what he gave you."

"That's also when the other bartender, Anna, decided to cut you off," Kensi adds, gesturing to the blonde on screen. "When we talked to her, she said you had been fine one minute, and then sloppy the next. That's when she took your keys."

"And that's when we think the guy made a copy, probably pressed it into a mold," Eric says, his voice sounding through the screen's speakers.

Callen sets his ice-pack on the table, his forehead flushed pink from a budding bruise and the cold. "You _think_?"

"There's not a clear shot, but Ruiz definitely spends a few minutes hanging around the area Anna stored Deeks' keys," Sam says, defending Eric's choice of words. "We don't actually see him with the keys, but it would make sense, would explain how they managed to get into Deeks' car."

Deeks shakes his head, leaning back in his chair as he tries to absorb everything, tries to make it make sense. "So what? This Ruiz guy just decided to roofie me and then plant a body in my car? Why? What's the reason?"

"No idea. But nobody's seen Ruiz since his shift ended," Ryan tells him. "And according to your friend Anna, he volunteered to close up the bar last night."

"Most likely to move Oran's body," Sam says, helping to fill in the gaps.

"Is there any link between David Oran and John Ruiz?" Callen asks, referring to the first body found only to have several people shake their heads no.

"Not that we can see," Eric says apologetically. "But we're still looking."

Callen closes his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, his jaw jutted forward as he thinks. "The guy from the precinct, he looked like he was in his late thirties, maybe early forties," he says describing the janitor he believes somehow drugged them. "He was in the parking deck when we left."

"And in the station," Deeks adds, the memory from the windowed conference room trying to match up with the fuzzy memory of walking to the car. "I saw him in the bullpen too."

"Harold Carpenter," Eric begins to read aloud, having already checked the cameras from the precinct when it was first discovered that Callen and Deeks were missing. "He's been working as a custodian for three months, and he's definitely the one that drugged you."

The screen changes again, this time showing Harold Carpenter in his dark blue shirt wiping something on the handles of Callen's car before hiding the evidence in his pockets.

Deeks hears Callen's muttered 'son of a bitch' but chooses to ignore him when Kensi's phone begins to ring, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

"Kens?" Sam asks, having noticed the confusion as well.

"Caller ID says it's Deeks' phone," she tells them before hitting the speaker.

"Hello?" she asks, looking to Eric to insure he's trying to trace the phone.

"Is this Detective Marty Deeks' partner?" a man says after a beat of silence.

"Who is this?" Kensi demands, gently placing the phone in the center of the table.

The man laughs, ignoring her question. "Are you with him now? I need to talk to him, I know he woke up."

Receiving the go-ahead from Callen in the form of a silent nod, Deeks leans forward. "This is Detective Deeks," he says, a little impressed when his voice doesn't sound tired. "Who is this?"

"Not important right now," the man says, and everyone can hear the smile. "What is important is that you listen to what I say."

Suddenly, another voice comes on the line, making Deeks' stomach once again bottom out. It's a woman, crying and begging to be let go, begging the man not to hurt her.

"Are you listening, Detective?" the man asks, and Deeks swallows heavily before answering.

"Loud and clear," he tells the man, his tone hard.

"Good. Now, I know you found our first little surprise, but what about the second?"

Deeks keeps staring at the table as he talks to the man, trying to ignore the feel of everyone's eyes on him. "If by surprise you mean the second body, then, yeah, I found it."

The man laughs again, the woman still crying. "That's good, because unless you want to find a third," he says just as the woman screams in pain, "then you're going to do exactly as I say. Understand?"

Deeks closes his eyes as he leans over the phone, realizing that he once again is left with no choice. "I understand. What do you want me to do?"

TBC…

**A/N:** I know, I know, _another_ cliffie. But before anyone asks, I promise I will update soon. I always do.


	6. All According to Plan

**Chapter 6: **All According to Plan

Nine times out of ten, something goes wrong in a plan. No matter how well thought out the plan might be, there are always too many variables to consider, too many possibilities for things to go from 'right on schedule' to 'holy hell'. Nine times out of ten. That means that only once in every ten plans, things go off without a hitch. One out of every ten times, things go smoothly, never once causing a gun to be fired, a cover to be blown, or even a momentary sense of panic before someone can rock out Plan B.

That being said, Hetty hadn't wanted to take any chances with their current plan of action. After hearing what the man on the phone had requested of Deeks, she had immediately gotten on the horn, calling the Chief of Police at home, interrupting his nice dinner in order to tell him what's going on, in order to insure that they weren't prepared for just Plan B, but Plans C and D as well. Just in case.

Deeks appreciates it all, truthfully he does. Because without Hetty and her metaphorically long reach, there's no way he'd be able to walk into the Fifth Precinct's evidence locker without a badge and walk out with nearly fifty thousand dollars worth of heroin and evidence to an open murder investigation. No way at all.

He climbs out of the borrowed car, adjusting his shirt so the button cam can have a clear view. He had already wrestled with the earpiece, making sure it fit snuggly and wouldn't tickle his ear with each word spoken.

He knows Detective Ryan is inside, waiting to escort a badge-less Deeks to the evidence locker as well as help him smuggle out the drugs. It's not really smuggling if the Chief knows about it, hardly stealing if the Lieutenant for the Organized Crime Division is waiting with the evidence in hand, willing to risk loosing it in order to help save the anonymous woman on the phone.

The man on the phone hadn't bothered warning Deeks about coming alone, probably because he knew that would never happen. Instead, he had ordered Deeks to get the drugs and the evidence, and text his phone for further directions. Much to Eric and everyone else's chagrin, the phone had not been traceable, meaning they have no choice but to go through with the caller's orders if they want to save the damsel in distress.

The terrified damsel. Deeks can still hear her screams, even as he exits the elevator into the heavily populated precinct. Nighttime in LA has always been the busiest, so it makes sense that tonight would be no different.

"You ready?" Ryan asks, meeting Deeks by the elevator. He does a good job of not looking around, not looking over his shoulder like he knows he's being watched, but Deeks can still see he's nervous. Hell, Deeks is nervous and he's done things that are a lot crazier.

"Yep," Deeks says with a reassuring smile, gesturing for Ryan to lead the way. They walk side by side, Ryan purposefully keeping his head down, trying not to draw attention, not to get distracted by a coworker. They leave the main hustle and bustle of the bullpen, meandering their way towards the stairwell.

They take the stairs two at a time, knowing the man had ordered Deeks to hurry. It's already been over two hours since the phone call, two hours since they began to put everything into place, they don't really want to waste any more time.

Within seconds, they are pushing the door open to find the grey-paint and scuff-marked décor of the Fifth Precinct's evidence locker shining in all its grimy glory. The normally locked door is already propped open, Detective Marisol Abernathy, a woman in her fifties with a serious look that makes Deeks think of a slightly taller, slightly more redheaded Hetty is waiting for them. Her gun and badge are clearly visible on her hip, and her serious look seems to ease as Deeks and Ryan approach.

"Right on time, boys," she says turning and pushing the door open the rest of the way. "It's all ready to go."

Deeks peeks inside the large storage room, noting the rows and rows of ceiling high shelves, all packed with labeled boxes. The back of the room is fenced off, the chain-link fence securing evidence that would be too big for the standard boxes.

Detective Abernathy walks forward, stopping when she's reached a dolly loaded with three of the boxes. She lifts the lid off the first one, revealing tightly packed packages of what Deeks assumes to be heroin.

"You boys realize that the moment you step out of this door, this is all on you," Detective Abernathy warns, closing the lid once more. "I don't know what big wig you got up there calling the shots, but they better know what the hell they're doing." She reaches around and grabs a large manila envelope off one of the shelves, handing it to Deeks. "I'm serious, I'm not taking the fall if this all goes south."

"Thanks for your confidence, Mari," Ryan deadpans, securing the boxes of heroin with a bungee cord. "Nice to know you think we're reliable."

"You, I trust," she says, a smile peeking through. "But him?" She points to Deeks, looking him up and down with an appraising but somewhat intrigued glare, "I don't know him, and there's a lot riding on this little mission you two got going on."

"We'll be careful," Deeks promises with a smile, peering into the envelope he had been given. Inside is a pair of shorts and a busted up iPod, the screen cracked, and the case covered in what looks like blood. "This is all there is?" he asks, looking back up at Detective Abernathy.

"You requested all of the victim's personal belongings," she says, "That was all he had on him at the time. Wasn't even wearing shoes."

"And the victim was never identified?" Deeks asks for the third time since learning of the crime. The man on the phone had given him a case number, telling Deeks to collect all of the victim's belongings as well as the drugs. When Eric looked into the case, Deeks had been disappointed to find out it was an active murder investigation of a John Doe who had the misfortune of making someone want to bash his head in.

"Like I said on the phone, Detective, vic's still a John Doe," Abernathy says, her tone indifferent. "But his shorts and iPod aren't my concern. What I'm worried about is what's in these boxes." She places her hand on the top box protectively. "The only reason I'm agreeing to this is because you might be able to get some actual information we can use."

"That and the Chief ordered you to," Deeks says, trying and failing not to sound derisive.

She takes a calming breath, closing her eyes as she lets it out on a controlled exhale. "We've been looking into this group for over a year," she explains, her hand still on the top box. "And we've got nothing. All we know is that they're making deals all over the city, got their fingers in every pot and cookie jar on the west coast, and we only have a few low level names."

"And this group you're after, these are their drugs?" Deeks asks, gesturing to the stack of boxes she's guarding.

Detective Abernathy nods, "We got lucky, end of story. But the guy we busted couldn't give us anything. Whoever's in charge of the organization keeps to the shadows, not letting his employees learn anything they can use against him. We've had a guy undercover for almost a year, and we've still got nothing."

Suddenly, her lecturing demeanor disappears, her serious expression turning borderline severe. "That's why I need to know that you aren't going to screw this up. Whoever this mystery caller of yours is, if he's wanting these drugs, he's most likely involved with this group."

"We won't screw this up," Deeks promises yet again reaching forward and grabbing the handle of the dolly. He doesn't push it though, not until she moves her hand of her own free will. "Who knows, maybe my mystery caller is your man in the shadows."

Detective Abernathy snorts as she rolls her eyes, locking Detective Ryan with another warning glare. "Watch him," she orders, gesturing back to Deeks. Ryan laughs as Deeks looks both innocent and insulted at the same time.

"I will," Ryan says, holding the door open as Deeks begins to push the dolly. Normally, they'd have to sign the evidence out, give their badge numbers and signatures. Even then, they wouldn't be allowed to take the drugs. Without the Chief and Detective Abernathy, Deeks would have actually had to steal them, would have had to pick the lock on that chain-link fence and loaded the drugs into the boxes himself.

But this way is easier, especially as Deeks bypasses the stairs and steers the drug-laden dolly in the direction of the elevators. It's a little crowded, but people step out of the way, occasionally casting a few glances to Deeks and his cargo, but they keep their questions to themselves.

Ryan continues to lead the way, his badge shining on his hip so no one will question as he holds the doors open for Deeks, and just generally dismisses any questioning stares with a smile and a wave, maybe an occasional " hi, how you doing?"

Eventually, they make it outside, the borrowed car within sight. Deeks pops the trunk and immediately starts loading the boxes inside, tossing the envelope with the shorts and iPod into the passenger seat.

Ryan takes the now empty dolly, wishing Deeks luck before going back inside. All that's left now is to text the bad guy, and wait for further instructions.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"_Callen, Sam, and Kensi are right behind you_," Deeks hears Nell say into his earpiece, reminding him that he's theoretically not alone. He looks into the rearview mirror, seeing no other cars as he navigates through the marina. But just because he can't see them, doesn't mean they aren't there.

"What about LAPD?" he asks, trying to find the address he had been given. He's never truly appreciated how many marinas are in Los Angeles County before now, and each one is bigger than the next.

"_They're standing by_," Callen answers as Deeks' headlights light up the number on the side of the houseboat, the reflective service bobbing with the motion of the waves.

"I'm here," Deeks says solemnly, putting the car in park. The houseboat is large and old, the paint chipping and the edges rusted from neglect.

"_Be careful, Deeks. Just do as they say_," Callen reminds him, "_We can't move in until we see the girl_." Deeks nods even though they can't see him. He takes a steadying breath, preparing himself to open the car door. Theoretically, he may not be alone, but looking around the darkened marina, he's definitely _technically_ alone.

He barely even has the door open before someone's stepping out of the houseboat and onto the dock. "You the detective?" the man asks, his face obscured by a baseball cap pulled low. Deeks nods and finishes climbing out of the car, turning so the button cam can get a good look at the man.

As the man steps closer, the headlights traveling up his tall, built frame, recognition hits Deeks full on in the face. "You're the bartender from last night," Deeks observes. "John Ruiz."

Ruiz laughs but doesn't answer. He simply continues to walk forward, tapping the back of his hand against the car. "You do what we asked?"

Deeks is about to answer when movement catches his eye. Three more men exit the houseboat, each just as big as Ruiz. "Yeah," Deeks finally answers, his eyes traveling back to the relaxed man standing before him. "It's in the trunk."

He hands the man the envelope with the iPod and shorts before walking to the back of the car. Keys in hand, Deeks turns the lock, freezing when he hears the all too familiar sound of a gun being cocked.

"Don't try anything funny," Ruiz warns, his demeanor still eerily calm as he points the gun at Deeks' head, telling Deeks he's definitely dealing with a sociopath. "Boss wouldn't like that too much."

"And who is the boss?" Deeks asks conversationally, slowly opening the trunk lid, revealing the three boxes.

Ruiz just laughs again. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He gestures to the boxes with the muzzle of the gun. "Open 'em."

Still moving slowly so as not to spook the man, Deeks reaches in and removes the lid to each box, revealing the once confiscated cargo.

Ruiz nods in approval, once again gesturing to the boxes. "Go ahead, help get 'em inside," he orders, both to Deeks and the men who had exited the houseboat. Deeks places the lid back on one of the boxes and lifts it out of the trunk.

"Are you armed?" Ruiz asks as Deeks steps off the dock and onto the deck of the houseboat. Deeks can feel the gun resting at the small of his back, the second tucked inside his boot. "We're gonna check, so you might as well just answer."

"Yeah," Deeks mumbles, his eyes searching for the woman he had heard on the phone. Other than him, Ruiz, and the three other men, the boat is empty. Deeks keeps the box low, keeping the camera on his shirt clear as he makes his way across the empty room to sit the heavy box on a table.

"Where's the woman?" Deeks asks, turning back to face Ruiz and his gun.

"Where's your weapon?" Ruiz asks in return, matching Deeks intonation. Deeks moves to get it, but stops when Ruiz makes a clicking sound with his tongue. "Not too fast."

Moving _extra _slowly, Deeks grabs his gun with his thumb and forefinger holding it up for Ruiz to see. Ruiz smiles and Deeks feels like his skin is crawling. He's never really been a fan of sociopaths, mostly because they've never been a fan of him.

"Check him," Ruiz says, sending the three silent men into motion. The first two ignore Deeks, grabbing the boxes of drugs from the table and leaving the room. The third man however, takes Deeks' gun and proceeds to pat him down. Deeks closes his eyes to keep them from rolling in annoyance as the man finds the second gun hidden in his boot.

"Tricky, tricky, Detective," Ruiz taunts, lowering the gun now that Deeks has been disarmed. "No wonder Anna likes you."

Deeks' eyes widen as a thought crosses his mind. "Is Anna the woman I heard on the phone?" he asks, fearing for the blonde bartender's safety.

"_I'll send an officer to her apartment," _Eric says into the mic, and Deeks has no doubt the man is already dialing.

"You keep asking about this woman," Ruiz observes, finally putting the gun away. "I'm afraid you're going to be a little disappointed, 'cause she ain't here." Ruiz smiles again, causing that itching feeling to creep across Deeks' skin once more.

"_We're going in_," Callen says, warning Deeks to get ready. If the hostage isn't there, there's no reason to wait, no reason to risk the men getting way.

Deeks takes a step back, trying to put as much distance between him and the two men still in the room. Deeks knows that the plan is to take the men alive, after all, they're the only ones who know where the missing woman is. But experience dictates that Deeks be prepared for gunfire, and common sense dictates he be as far away from the human targets as possible should the bullets start to fly.

"Do you know what this is, Detective?" Ruiz asks, holding up a small black object, completely unaware that three NCIS agents are moving in.

Deeks smiles ruefully, his muscles tightening in preparation. "Looks like a taser," he says, no humor in his voice despite his smile.

"That's because it is a taser," Ruiz informs him. "Don't worry, though. We got it set on low. Don't want to kill you or anything."

Deeks hears a deep yell followed by a gunshot. As his team begins to announce themselves, shots of "Federal Agent" and "Drop your weapon" filling the air, Deeks sees Ruiz take a step forward, the taser extended.

In his mind, Deeks had planned to fight back, not wanting the taser anywhere near him, low wattage or not. But thanks to the third man, the one who had frisked him, that wasn't an option.

Deeks feels his arms being pulled back as the taser makes contact with his chest. It might be set on low, but it still produces a panicked yelp to accompany the sudden dizziness. Deeks sucks in a desperate breath as he feels himself being pushed through the houseboat and out the door, different from the one he had entered.

He hears Kensi calling his name again and tries to turn, tries to fight back against the arms wrapping around him in a fierce bear hug. He's tossed over the side of the boat, any visual he would have had of Kensi gone as he lands hard. He had expected to hit water, but instead finds himself on the floor of a speedboat, his shoulder bouncing off the edge of one of the stolen boxes of heroin.

He feels the boat rock as someone else jumps down beside him, the engine already started as they begin to speed away into the night. Deeks sits up, his adrenaline pumping as he and his new friends quickly pull away from the houseboat.

Before he can make a move, he feels a hand push him back down, holding him in place. The gun makes a comeback, pressing against his cheek.

"Don't move!" the third man yells over the speedboat's motor, and it's the first words he's spoken since Deeks first saw him. Looking around the small boat, Deeks sees no sign of the other two men, indicating they're still on the houseboat with Callen, Kensi, and Sam.

"_Deeks, hang on_," Kensi says into the earpiece. She's out of breath, but otherwise sounds okay. He can hear Callen and Sam ordering the other men to stay still, meaning that everyone's still alive, good guys and bad guys alike.

"_Deeks, can you still hear me?" _Nell asks worriedly. Deeks swallows loudly, his eyes crossing as he tries to focus on the gun held against his face.

"I hear you," he says, both to Nell and the gunman. The man just sneers and reaches into Deeks' pocket. At first Deeks is confused and a little worried. But when the man pulls out a phone, the one Nell had given him to replace his stolen one, Deeks remembers that the man had frisked him for weapons minutes before, and would have noticed the phone's presence.

He watches as the man tosses the phone over the side of the boat before moving back, taking a seat while keeping the gun trained on Deeks.

"_Stay strong, Mr. Deeks," _Hetty says, using her forced-calm voice. "_We're going to fix this."_

TBC…

**A/N: **AHHHH! Before this story, I would write one, _maybe_ two cliffhangers per story. I don't know what happened, but I do apologize. And as always, I will update soon.


	7. Damsels and Deception

**A/N:** Would anyone forgive me if I say I'm sorry? If you actually want to know why it took my five days to post this chapter instead of two, keep reading this A/N. If you really don't care, just scroll down to the beginning of the chapter.

My excuse isn't exactly a _funny _story, but it can definitely be classified as ridiculous. Tuesday evening, I'm sitting in a Mexican restaurant, enjoying some serious salsa and cheese dip when my phone rings. It's my cousin, my lovely somewhat socially troubled cousin. I say socially troubled, because her and society don't always get along on the best of terms. Keep in mind, it's 4:00 in the afternoon. She tells me that she has a court hearing that she has to be at or she goes to jail and wants to know if I could take her. I say sure, because I'm a good cousin and think I have enough family members behind bars, no need to add to that list. She then tells me that the hearing is in another state—in fact, three states away. I sigh, but agree to it anyway. After all, she's already had her license suspended (for good reason) and I can't expect her to drive herself. I ask her when the court date is…people this is the honest to God truth. She tells me it's for nine in the morning. On Wednesday. Remember when I said it was 4:00 on Tuesday? Yeah. So, she paid for a rental car, I loaded her criminally irresponsible ass in the car, searched for my inner Winchester, and booked it across three states in fifteen hours. After her arraignment, we got a cheap motel and I slept for five hours before hopping in the car and driving back home. Those five hours were the only sleep I had in three days, so when I finally got home, I crashed for twelve much needed hours. That is why this chapter is so late. It would have been posted yesterday, but honestly, it sucked out loud. I touched it up, and hopefully this works better. Again I'm sorry, but it's family you know…

**Chapter 7:** Damsels and Deception

Deeks just goes with the motion as he's lifted from the bottom of the boat, the gunman's hand gripped tightly around the back of Deeks' collar. He had stopped asking questions about where they were going when a warning shot had been fired into the air. After that, Deeks was pretty much resigned to cluelessness. Ruiz had driven the boat for a while, his speed slowing as the waves got choppier. Deeks had remained lying down the entire time, his head occasionally bouncing on the floor, the vibrations from the boat thrumming through his entire body, the noise of the wind and motor making it difficult to hear what was being said in his ear.

Now that the boat has stopped, Deeks stands still on the dock, keeping his hands where they can be seen as his collar is released. They're in a boatshed, the kind used to house several speedboats at once, each having their own little 'stall'. Deeks looks down, feeling a sense of relief when he sees the button cam is still in place. At some point, Eric must have muted his earpiece, because all Deeks hears at the moment is the sound of the water lapping against the side of the boatshed and Ruiz's heavy grunts as he lifts the boxes from the boat and places them on the dock.

After the third box is in place, Ruiz hops out of the boat and tosses a set of keys to the man still holding Deeks at gunpoint.

"Josh, go get the van," Ruiz says, taking over gun duty as well as supplying Deeks with a name more useful than the Gunman for their armed friend. Josh catches the keys awkwardly and turns, leaving Deeks and Ruiz alone in the dark boatshed, a lone security light positioned high in the corner acting as the shed's only source of light.

"So, Josh seems like a nice guy," Deeks says matter-of-factly, feeling extremely uncomfortable standing on the dock. Ruiz shrugs, the corners of his mouth turning down in an indifferent frown.

"You can say that," Ruiz admits, sounding like he doesn't care either way. "He gets the job done. That's all that matters."

Deeks nods as the sound of an engine starting echoes through the metallic building. "And what about your other friends? The ones you left back there?"

Again, Ruiz gives his give-a-damn shrug. "They did their job," he says, gesturing to the boxes.

Deeks can't stop the half-laugh that comes next, full of nerves and self-deprecation. "So, what about me? Huh? I did my job, why didn't you leave me on the boat?"

The headlights from the van shine through the opened door, lighting up Ruiz's face as he grins a mischievous smile. "You're job isn't over yet, Detective."

The self-deprecation leaves Deeks' smile, nothing but nerves and worry taking its place. "What else do you want me to do?" he asks, wishing like crazy that he could hear what his team was doing at the moment, that he had proof they were on their way to get him. He's kind of gotten used to not being alone.

Two short honks of the van's horn, and Ruiz is barking orders again. "Right now, I want you to help load these boxes into the van." Ruiz kicks the closest box and takes a step back, giving Deeks room to lift the box without giving him a chance to push Ruiz into the water.

Not wanting to piss off the man with the gun, Deeks does as he's told. The dock creaks with each step, adding to an already somewhat scary atmosphere. One gunman up ahead and another in back, leaving Deeks smack dab in the middle—not how he had been planning on ending his day. But to be fair, nothing's gone Deeks' way since he first woke up on Nell's couch with a jingle bell shaped imprint on his cheek.

Deeks walks through the open door, almost tripping when he doesn't see the small step leading to the ground. The van's headlights are bright, blinding him, forcing him to squint and turn his head as he approaches.

"Josh, man. Go get the other box," Deeks hears Ruiz say from right behind him. Deeks keeps walking, letting the button cam get a good look at the van. It's old and white, the outline of an old logo still visible on the side, though the logo itself is long gone. As Deeks rounds the corner, he stops, letting the license plate get a little camera time.

He turns when he hears a heavy thump. Ruiz had been carrying one of the boxes, and had decided to drop it on the ground so he could once again point the gun at Deeks.

"Door's unlocked," Ruiz says, jerking his chin towards the van's back door. "Open it and put the boxes in."

Deeks can tell that Ruiz's cheerful mood has long since disappeared. Knowing that it wouldn't do him any good to further aggravate the man, Deeks keeps his mouth shut as he balances the box on one hip and opens the van door, though he can't help the irritated glare he sends Ruiz's way.

By the time Deeks has the first two boxes loaded, Josh is back with the third. Deeks sits it next to the others and backs up, waiting for further instructions. He watches as Ruiz hands the gun to Josh.

"You got cuffs?" Ruiz asks, reaching into his pocket.

"Not on me," Deeks tells him, his eyes narrowing as he sees the zip ties Ruiz is now holding in his hand. "But something tells me you were already expecting that."

"What these?" Ruiz asks in mock innocence. "That's just being prepared, bro. Now, get in." Ruiz points to the van, Josh circling around so he can have a clear shot should Deeks decide to try anything.

Deeks sits on the floor, his back against the wall, feet stretching forward to rest against the boxes of heroin. Ruiz pauses, his face adopting a stern expression. "You get stupid, Josh will blow your brains out, understand?"

Deeks just nods, deciding it's probably in his best interest not to talk at the moment. "Good," Ruiz says with a bright smile, his demeanor instantly switching, going from hot to cold so fast Deeks _definitely_ knows he's dealing with someone who should be heavily medicated.

"Arms up," Ruiz continues, using a tone that reminds Deeks of a mother speaking to a young child. Deeks, once again, does as he's told, his knuckles brushing against the roof of the van as Ruiz tightens the zip ties around Deeks' wrists, securing them to a metal bar running along the top of the van's wall. The bar is shiny, even in the low light, and Deeks can't tell whether or not it was part of the van's original interior or if it was a recent addition.

Deeks tucks his elbow in as the van doors are slammed shut, encasing him in total darkness as Josh and Ruiz walk to the front. The van rocks as the two men get inside, the interior light shining for just a moment before the doors are shut, and the darkness returns.

As they begin to drive, Deeks shifts, trying to ease the pressure on his wrists while simultaneously searching for a position that won't wreak havoc on his tailbone. Once semi-comfortable, he closes his eyes and leans his head back on the van wall, trying to listen to the men in the front, trying to hear what they're saying over the radio.

He closes his eyes, straining his ears, all his attention focused on _listening_. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Eric's voice come out of nowhere, the forgotten earpiece apparently un-muted.

"_Deeks? Deeks, can you hear me?_"

"I can hear you," Deeks whispers, looking towards the front of the van. "I can talk."

"_Are you hurt?_" Callen asks, and Deeks can almost imagine that pinched frown as Callen waits for an answer.

"No more than I already was." Deeks keeps his eyes on the front of the van, thankful that one of them likes loud music. "Did you get the plates?" he asks, hoping the camera is still working.

"_The plates belong to a pickup truck that was reported missing two months ago,"_ Eric says in a breathy exasperation he reserves for delivering bad news.

"_Did you see anything that might help us figure out where you are?" _Callen asks, sounding agitated. "_Something that the camera didn't pick up?_"

Deeks sees Ruiz check the rearview mirror, meeting his eye. He keeps quiet, not answering Callen's question as Ruiz leans forward, cutting the radio off.

"_Deeks?_" Callen asks worriedly, having heard the radio turn off.

Ruiz smiles as he watches Deeks, his eyes darting back and forth from the road to the mirror. "You comfy, Detective?"

"Just peachy," Deeks says with a mocking grin, trying not to act suspicious. He can tell the others are holding their breath, waiting to see what's about to happen.

"Really?" Ruiz asks with false sincerity, "Because you look like you've got something on your mind, like there's something you want to say."

Deeks presses his lips together, the corners of his mouth slanting down. "Nope," he tells Ruiz, shaking his head slowly. "Not unless you want to share where we're going?"

Ruiz laughs and Deeks once again feels that crawling feeling. "You're persistent, Detective. I'll give you that," Ruiz says, not answering his question. Deeks keeps eye contact, but remains quiet, not sure of the best way to proceed when dealing with the seemingly deranged man.

"Come on, Detective. Josh here isn't too big on conversation, and I _know_ you've got something to say," Ruiz taunts, casually steering the van like he's doing nothing more than going for a Sunday drive. "In fact, I think that's probably why Anna likes you so much. She tends to go after the loud mouths."

Deeks ignores the jibe, choosing instead to focus on the mention of the bartender. "That's the second time you've brought up Anna," he calmly points out.

Ruiz laughs again, nodding as he turns the wheel. "Don't worry, Detective. I didn't hurt your favorite bartender," Ruiz assures Deeks. "As far as I know, she's slinging beers back at Murphy's."

"_Uniforms checked on her," _Eric says through the earpiece. "_She's at home. She's not the hostage."_

Deeks relaxes a bit. He's never done more than flirt with the woman, no more than what usually passes between bartender and patron. She'd laugh, call him Detective Marty, and he'd laugh back, leaving behind a big tip. It's a working relationship they've had for a while, each knowing it'll never go any farther.

"So, how'd you come to work at Murphy's?" Deeks asks, willing to serve as Ruiz's entertainment if it will answer questions.

"Needed a day job," Ruiz admits, sounding sincere. "Technically, it's at night, but you know what I mean. People tend to ask questions when you've got a nice car but no job."

"And Murphy's just seemed like as good a place as any?" Deeks asks doubtfully. Of all the luck to have, a sociopath with criminalistic tendencies _would_ pick his favorite bar for a cover story.

"Anna had a sign out front, one of those 'Help Wanted' things," Ruiz tells him, sounding as though he finds the thought funny. "I'd only been working there a week when you strolled in."

Deeks keeps his head tilted forward so he can see Ruiz around his pinned arm. "So were you waiting for me specifically, or were you just looking for any cop?" Deeks asks, tired of not knowing, even more tired of playing games. He can just imagine Kensi and Sam sharing an eye roll over his bluntness.

Ruiz doesn't laugh, but Deeks can see in those reflected eyes that the man his happy to hear the question asked. Josh shifts uncomfortably in his seat and looks out the passenger window.

"Actually, if it weren't for Anna calling you Detective, I'd have probably never even noticed you," Ruiz begins to explain, starting out slow like a good storyteller. "But then I heard her asking you about work, and well, it couldn't have been more perfect."

"So, you were just waiting for any cop, not me specifically?" Deeks asks, wanting clarification. He can't deny the relief he feels at the thought. The last thing he needed was another one on one lesson with Sam about personal safety when off the clock.

"Honestly, I wasn't even looking for a cop," Ruiz says, confusing Deeks and catching him a little off guard. "That's the beauty of it." Ruiz looks in the mirror again, insuring he has Deeks' full attention before continuing. "You see, I happened to have a little problem that I needed to take care of. I was planning on doing it after work, but then you stroll in, and well, I don't like to brag or anything," Ruiz says in a tone that can only be described as bragging, earning a disbelieving snort from Josh.

"But the plan just sort of…blossomed," Ruiz continues, one hand rising in the air, fingers opening slowly to simulate a blooming flower.

"And what plan would that be?" Deeks asks, his relief at hearing he wasn't sought out fading, quickly being replaced by anger at being in the wrong place at the wrong time. "You just happened to have a dead body and think it'd be a good idea to hide it in a cop's car?"

"It got you here didn't it?" Ruiz snaps back indignantly. Deeks leans back at the sudden mood swing, and just like before, Ruiz manages to cool off almost instantly. Deeks can't help thinking of a tennis match, Ruiz's demeanor being the ball, bouncing from one side of the court to the other.

"But yeah, I had a body. That was my 'problem'," Ruiz clarifies, sounding as though he's speaking more to defend his _plan_ rather than to brag. "I called up the boss, told him I had a cop in a good position to do our bidding, he told me to go for it."

Deeks stares at the back of Ruiz's seat for a moment, failing to see the logic in Ruiz's plan, too many opportunities for it to have gone wrong springing forth in Deeks' mind. The whole thing had been one gigantic long shot. "So putting David Oran's body in my trunk was all so I could get you back your drugs?"

"Among other things," Ruiz hints, and Josh squirms again, making Deeks think the 'boss' had ordered them not to talk.

"Right," Deeks says, slowly nodding his head, as the van begins to slow. "I forgot, you said my job isn't done." From what little Deeks can see through the windshield, they appear to be approaching a large building. "So, who was David Oran?"

Ruiz looks back in the mirror, his brow scrunched as though he's a little surprised Deeks would want to know. "An idiot whose ego was getting too big for his shoes," Ruiz answers cryptically.

"I thought he was a food truck vendor?" Deeks asks, and this time both Josh and Ruiz laugh.

"Yeah, he was. At least, most of the time," Ruiz tells him. "He was also a drug runner. But the bastard got it in his head that he could branch out, try a little dealing of his own. Wanted to call the shots instead of doing as he was told."

"Sounds like _Scarface_," Deeks observes. He ducks his head to hide his smile when at the exact same time he hears Eric ask, _"Like Scarface_?" in his ear.

Ruiz smirks at the comparison as he puts the van into park. "Detective, you still want to know where we're going?"

Deeks looks back up, straining his eyes to see out the windshield. "I've got a feeling we're already here."

Ruiz turns in the seat so that he's facing Deeks before giving him a wink and getting out of the van. Deeks shifts again, making it to where he's partially facing the van's back doors. Even with his arms still secured above his head, he still feels a little more prepared for an attack in his new position. He knows it's a futile effort, especially when the doors open and four men are waiting outside, not two. One of them Deeks easily recognizes as the janitor that drugged him and Callen.

Josh is still holding the gun, but instead of having it aimed at Deeks' head, the muzzle is pointed to the ground in a loosened grip. Deeks keeps still as Ruiz cuts off the zip ties, freeing his hands. Instead of ordering Deeks to grab a box, Ruiz pushes him forward, directing him to what looks like a large, abandoned industrial building.

There are no identifying markers, no signs or logos that Deeks can see, and if he can't see it, that means the camera can't see it. The parking lot is cracked and overrun with weeds, loose gravel scattered about the broken concrete. The windows all appear to be boarded up, large sheets of plywood screwed into place down the length of the building's neglected side. As they approach the small side door, Deeks feels that creepy horror-movie feeling again.

He's more than a little surprised when they walk inside. He had fully expected the interior to match the exterior, all rundown and dilapidated, but no, it's obvious from the décor that someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make the space appear comfy and inviting.

Looking around at the oversized couch and spattering of chairs and tables, Deeks' best guess is that the room used to be the lobby when the building was originally built. Now, it serves as the street-chic hideout for whatever group has been giving LAPD and NCIS a run for their money.

Ruiz pushes him towards the large couch, and Deeks sits down on the edge, not wanting to get too relaxed should he need to defend himself. Josh and the other two men come in shortly after, each carrying one of the boxes of heroin. Deeks watches as one of the unnamed men begins opening the boxes, counting the contents inside.

Deeks feels the familiar tickle in his ear as Sam's voice breaks through the silence. "_Do you see the woman?_"

Deeks shifts on the couch, turning so he can see behind him. Other than him and the four men, there's no one else in the building. "Is it just us here?" he asks, semi-answering Sam's question.

The men sorting the drugs look up and frown. Apparently, they hadn't expected their hostage to talk. Ruiz just ignores them though, as he walks to a small mini-fridge and grabs two beers. "Nah, Nina's around here somewhere," he says, offering Deeks one of the beers.

Deeks looks at the offered beverage, his eyebrow raising questioningly. Ruiz smiles and shakes the bottle a little, encouraging Deeks to take it. "You should just go ahead and get comfy, Detective. You're gonna be here a while."

"No offense," Deeks says, pushing the bottle away, "But the last time you gave me a drink I blacked out."

Ruiz laughs and shrugs, walking over and setting the unopened bottle on the table.

"Who's Nina?" Deeks asks, and he feels an uncomfortable feeling brewing in his stomach as a theory pops into his head. He's pretty certain by the time this case is over, he'll have an ulcer or two.

Ruiz smiles as he sits on the table, the toes of his boots barely touching the floor. "Your damsel in distress," he says, carefully pronouncing the words in a mocking tone. Deeks narrows his eyes as he waits for more information, that theory slowly burning a hole in his esophagus.

Before Deeks can ask any more questions, he hears the unmistakable sound of high-heeled steps echoing through the tiled room. He turns, following Ruiz's gluttonous gaze. A woman, no more than five and a half feet tall with heels is walking towards them, her dark hair lying around her shoulders in loose curls. One corner of her mouth is twisted in a playful smirk, her hips swaying in a way that draws attention to her curves.

She's a beautiful woman, not in a showy, supermodel kind of way, but in a more natural, 'nice girl' kind of way. Deeks can't help seeing the irony, especially since the closer the woman gets, he sees her as being more 'predatory' rather than 'nice girl'.

"Detective Deeks, I'd like you to meet Nina," Ruiz says, gesturing to the woman with an overly dramatic gesture. "She's an aspiring actress, yoga enthusiast, and all around dog-lover. But you probably know her better as your damsel in distress."

Deeks leans back on the couch, slumping down as realization dawns on him, his theory being proven fact. "You're one hell of an actress," Deeks admits dejectedly, heaving a heavy sigh as the woman joins Ruiz on the table, her shorter legs hanging several inches above the floor.

"Thanks," Nina tells him, her hazel eyes studying him with a playful scrutiny. "He's kinda cute," she observes thoughtfully, earning an annoyed eye roll from Ruiz.

"You think everyone's _cute_," Ruiz says before taking a long drag from his beer. "Just stay away from him. He's not here for you to play with."

Nina rolls her eyes this time, pushing off the table and stalking away clearly offended.

"_Facial Rec says her name's Nina McElroy_," Nell says quickly, her own voice sounding just as defeated as Deeks. "_Moved to LA three years ago from Iowa._"

Deeks rubs his hand through his hair, mindful of the giant knot. He feels like an idiot, plain and simple. Nina really delivered, managing to fool them all into thinking she was afraid for her life. Watching her storm away, perfectly healthy and safe, Deeks feels like he wants to scream. He's fairly certain he hears Kensi mutter something that sounds a lot like 'bitch'. Obviously, Deeks isn't the only one upset by the deception.

The sound of tires crunching on the scattered and broken concrete outside draws everyone's attention, Nina included.

"_Deeks, what's happening?_" Callen asks.

Deeks scoots back to the edge of the couch, his adrenaline spiking as he sees the nervous glances his captors share, making it obvious they weren't expecting company. Josh walks forward, opening the door a crack and peering outside. Everyone else remains frozen, waiting.

"It's the boss," Josh says, swinging the door open the rest of the way, tucking the gun securely in the waistband of his jeans. Deeks hears a car door slam shut, a man dressed in a dark pair of jeans and a black button-up walks in. Deeks' first thought at seeing the man is that he probably doubles as a model for GQ, instantly disliking him if for no other reason than natural jealousy.

The Boss immediately fixes his eyes on Deeks, his face perfectly impassive. "This him?" the man asks, not speaking to anyone in particular, just trusting that he'll get an answer.

Ruiz steps forward, the beer bottle suddenly absent in front of his boss. "Detective Martin Deeks," Ruiz informs the man dutifully. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the busted iPod. The boss takes it, seemingly not bothered by the blood.

"Does it still work?" he asks, turning it over.

"Haven't hooked it up yet," Ruiz admits. "We just got here, but I thought…we'd let Ricky take a look at it, see if he could get the files off it."

The man nods, handing the iPod back to Ruiz before turning his attention back to Deeks. He takes a few steps towards the couch before stopping, his posture straightening, his hands resting in his pockets as he stares at Deeks.

"_We're running facial rec,"_ Nell whispers needlessly. There's no way the man can hear her, but Deeks just assumes the man's studious glare is unnerving her as much as it is him.

"So, Johnny here tells me I have you to thank for returning my property to me," the man finally says after a few tense moments, gesturing to Ruiz, his posture relaxing in a lazy stance. "Is that true?"

"There was a little blackmail and deceit involved, but yeah, I guess that's close enough to the truth," Deeks says, clasping his hands together to keep them still. He feels trapped and unprepared sitting on the couch, but doesn't think it would be too welcomed if he were to stand. "He also says I have another job to do."

The man smiles and nods, "You do." He turns and grabs a chair from beside the table, turning it to face Deeks. "I have a little problem," he explains as he sits down, and Deeks fears he's about to say that 'little problem' is another body. "You see, Detective, I think one of your friends at LAPD has managed to get into my little organization. And I need you to help me figure out who that friend is."

Deeks shakes his head. "You think there's an undercover cop in your gang, and you want me to give you his or her name? Ain't gonna happen."

"First off, this isn't a gang," the man says, sounding like a lecturing teacher correcting a stubborn student. "Secondly, unless you want a bullet between your eyes, I think you will."

Deeks stares at the man for a minute, meeting his dark gaze. "Even if I were willing, there's no way for me to get that information," Deeks explains. "It's not like there's a monthly newsletter that gets passed around, listing everyone's assignments. Undercover assignments are kept secret, I have no idea who would be working your case, or if anyone even is."

The man inhales deeply, his tongue running over his teeth as he thinks. Finally, he shrugs, his eyebrows rising in defeat. "That's too bad, Detective Deeks," he says, standing and turning to Josh. He gestures for the gun, Josh relinquishing the weapon without question.

Deeks stands then, his hands rising in a placating gesture as he takes a step to circle around the couch.

"_Deeks,"_ Kensi says warningly, begging him to do something.

"_Tell him you'll do it,"_ Callen orders. Deeks wants to ask a million questions, wants to point out that short of asking Detective Abernathy for a name, there's no way for him to actually do what is being asked of him. But Deeks pushes that aside and decides to place all his trust in his team, praying that within the next five seconds, they can come up with a plan.

"I'll do it," Deeks says breathlessly, his hands still in the air. "I can get you the name."

The man smiles, but keeps the gun raised. "Good," he says. "How?"

Deeks freezes for a moment, swallowing heavily as he waits for Callen to share the rest of the plan. If there is one…

"_Tell him you can get him the name,_" Callen says, and Deeks can tell that he's making it up as the words leave his mouth. "_But you have to have your computer. Tell him you have to sign in to the LAPD database_."

"I need my computer," Deeks says hurriedly, taking another step back, the back of his leg bumping into the armrest of the couch. "I can find the name, but I need my computer."

"_It doesn't work that way,"_ Eric says quietly, obviously trying to explain to Callen. "_Even if he were to sign in, Deeks wouldn't be able to find that information."_

"I can sign in, look around, and see if I can find it for you," Deeks says, ignoring Eric's logic, praying that Callen's distraction works.

The man lowers his gun, his head tilting to the side in consideration. "You can do that?" he asks suspiciously.

"Once I sign in, I can look up your file, see what officers are assigned to your case," Deeks lies. "I just need my computer."

"_This is crazy_," Eric says again, and Deeks can hear the worry in his voice. "_That's not how it works._"

"_As long as the bad guys don't know that, it'll be okay,"_ Callen assures both Deeks and Eric. "_We just gotta get him back before they figure it out._"

"Where's your laptop?" the man asks Deeks.

"_Tell him it's at your apartment,_" Callen says quickly.

"It's at home," Deeks repeats, "In my apartment." He slowly lowers his arms, his shoulders still tense as he waits. The men in the back of the room are all frozen, each watching to see what their boss will do next, Nina's leaning against the wall, her arms wrapped around herself protectively, like she isn't used to seeing guns pointed at people's heads.

The man lets out a derisive laugh, perfectly straight, white teeth gleaming in the soft light. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he asks, and Deeks feels his ulcer burn, "I'm not gonna let you leave to get your computer, and I sure as hell am not about to let one of my men walk into a potential trap."

"We can let his girlfriend bring it to us," Ruiz says, the beer bottle mysteriously back in his hand.

The man turns, frowning. "What girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," Deeks insists, his mind going to Kensi, thinking that Ruiz had seen them together.

Ruiz drops the now empty bottle in a trash bin and retrieves his phone from his pocket. He walks forward, thumb swiping across the screen as he searches through the photos. Finally, he hands his boss the phone.

"She's cute," the boss observes, looking at the picture. "You sure you want to stick with that story, Detective?" The man holds the phone up where Deeks can see. Once again, he's presented with a picture from the inside of Murphy's bar. Nell's got her arm around Deeks' waist, his own arm draped over her shoulders. He knows she was most likely helping him stay on two feet, but if one were to just look at the picture, it would look like something much more intimate.

"_What is it Deeks?_" Kensi asks, and Deeks realizes the button cam probably can't see the phone's screen.

"Nell," Deeks says out loud. He looks to Ruiz, noticing the man's self-satisfied smirk. The guy obviously lives for praise, would do anything to please his boss, a certified brown-noser at his best. Deeks had thought he couldn't hate the guy any more than he already did, but now that he's brought Nell into the game…

"I think we should give this Nell a call," the man says, studying the picture on the phone. "What do you think, Detective?"

Deeks glares, causing the man's smile to widen. "And before you answer, keep in mind, I'm still not above shooting you."

Deeks closes his eyes and takes a calming breath. "Then I guess we should call her," he agrees reluctantly.

TBC…

**A/N:** Cousin's next court date isn't until April, so I think we're done with updating delays. Again, I'm sorry. I seriously hope the drama of the last week hasn't affected the quality of the story.


	8. Pseudonyms and Playing the Part

**A/N:** I'm hoping only one more chapter left. That is my plan. I have a bad habit of making my stories longer than intended. For example, when this was originally mapped out, it was only supposed to be 6 chapters long…

**Chapter 8: **Pseudonyms and Playing the Part

Nell can best describe the atmosphere in Ops as being like a vacuum. She can feel everyone's attention on her, can actually _sense_ their worry as their brains all begin to spin at once, trying to think of a way to fix all of this.

The second Deeks had mentioned her name, it had been like a spotlight had lit up above her head, highlighting her existence. At the moment, she's staring at the screen, watching as the man hands Deeks the phone and raises the gun again.

It's aimed right at Deeks' chest, giving the camera a fairly decent view down the barrel, almost as though it were aiming at her as well.

Eric had muted Deeks' earpiece again, making it to where Deeks can still be heard even though he can no longer hear what's being said in Ops. They listen to the man order Deeks to make the call, giving instructions on playing it cool, on not scaring 'the girl', not tipping her off that something could be wrong. Apparently, the man expects Nell to be okay with her supposed boyfriend calling her up late at night for a favor of the errand variety.

"He's gonna have it on speaker," Callen explains in his _I'm-trying-to-keep-you-calm_ voice. He's looking at Nell, his head dipped as he meets her eyes. She's holding her phone, waiting for it to ring. "Just remember, these guys think you're his girlfriend. Keep it simple, but make sure you sound confused, like you weren't expecting the call, like you have no idea what's going on."

Nell nods, forcing herself not to look at Eric. She can tell he's about ready to blow a gasket, he's practically bouncing in his chair with worry. In fact, everyone looks worried. _She's _worried.

"Call him Marty," Sam says, joining Callen in helping Nell prep. "His girlfriend wouldn't call him Deeks."

"Ask questions, but nothing that Deeks won't be able to deflect," Callen tells her as the phone begins to ring. "A real girlfriend wouldn't just drop everything to run a laptop across LA County without wanting a few answers. You have to be convincing, make them think you're the real deal."

The phone rings again, and Eric cuts off Deeks' earpiece completely, allowing for total silence. The phone rings a third time before Nell takes a deep, calming breath and answers the phone. She keeps her eyes closed so she won't see everyone watching her, so she won't see the gun on the screen.

"Hello?" she asks as she puts the phone on speaker, pretending not to recognize Ruiz's number.

"_Hey, Nell_," Deeks says with a false cheerfulness, no ounce of distress in his tone.

"Marty?" she asks, aiming for pleasantly surprised. Just calling him Marty feels all kinds of wrong and awkward, like the name is an alias itself. "What phone are you calling from?"

Deeks gives a small laugh, a little breathy, like he's gearing up to ask something he doesn't want to. "_A friend's,_" he lies smoothly, "_But listen, Babe, I was wondering if you could do me a favor_?"

Nell tilts her head a little, getting into character. "Depends on what it is," she says playfully. Girlfriends flirt, right? Even as she says it, she can feel the blush creeping up her neck, and she turns, putting her back to the others. If she's going to do this, she's going to do it right. There's no way in hell she's going to be the reason Deeks gets shot.

She hears Deeks laugh again, this time a genuine chuckle. "_It's nothing too bad, but it might be asking you to go a little out of your way,_" he begins, and Nell can actually hear him putting on the charm. She's heard it through comms in Ops numerous times, heard him try and use it on Kensi even more. "_I need you to bring me my laptop._"

"Marty, it's like ten o'clock at night," she says exasperatedly, playing it up, doing what Callen and Sam had said.

"_I know, Buttercup, but I really need it for work," _he says pleadingly, and she had thought calling him Marty had been awkward, but hearing him call her Buttercup is just outright ridiculously weird. "_It'd really be helping me out._"

She shifts her feet a little, scuffing the heel of her shoe against the floor. "Why can't you just use one of the computers at work?"

"_I'm not at the office_," he says simply, easily deflecting. She pauses for a moment, acting like she's thinking it over. But before she can 'concede', he speaks again.

"_Nell, please. I wouldn't be asking this of you if I had any other choice_," he says solemnly, and Nell can hear the complete sincerity in his words.

She squeezes her eyes shut, forcing herself to stay in character, because she knows her friend is hurting, being forced into a situation he'd rather avoid. They all are, and it makes her chest ache just thinking about it.

"Where do you want me to meet you?" she asks, heaving a heavy sigh, trying to sound like she really doesn't want to do it, but is conceding only out of girlfriend-obligation.

"_That's a good question,_" Deeks mumbles, and she can hear movement over the phone. She lifts her head, her eyes opening as she watches the screen. The man in charge hands Deeks a piece of paper. "_Do you remember that old surf shop in Culver City? The one where you knocked over the display and blamed it all on me?"_

Nell turns to look at the team, confused and completely clueless as to what he's talking about. Kensi waves and nods, signaling that she knows where Deeks is referring. "Yeah, I remember," Nell says, trusting Kensi to fill her in later.

"_There's a coffee shop on the same street," _Deeks says, and for a moment, Nell wonders if the man simply memorizes maps of LA in his spare time. "_Meet me there as soon as you can._"

Nell feels Callen tap her shoulder, and she turns to see him holding up a legal pad. _Tell him 1 hr_ printed in Callen's blocky writing. "You'll have to give me at least an hour, Marty. I still gotta go by your place and get the computer."

"_That's fine,_ _Sugarbear_," Deeks says, making Nell think that the nicknames are a coping mechanism. Some people bite their nails when they're nervous, Marty Deeks calls people embarrassing pet names. "_I owe you._"

"Yeah, you do," Nell says, forcing a smile into her voice. "I'll text you when I get there," she adds before hanging up. She wipes the screen of her phone on her shirt as she releases a shaky breath. She looks to the big screen and sees the man with the gun smiling, apparently pleased with their performance.

"You did good, Miss Jones," Hetty says reassuringly, and Nell only nods in response.

"Now what?" she asks, not sure if she's actually going to the coffee shop or not. Everything seems to be happening at the spur of the moment. Three minutes ago, they hadn't even known Deeks would be calling, let alone making plans for his pseudo-girlfriend to bring a useless laptop to a coffee shop.

"I couldn't get an exact location, but I can tell you it's nowhere near Culver City," Eric says, referring to his attempts to trace the phone call.

"It doesn't matter," Callen says, crossing his arms as he stares at the big screen. "Un-mute it," he says, gesturing to the image Deeks' button cam is capturing.

With a press of a button, they can hear everything that's being said.

"_What are you going to do?_" Deeks asks, his voice stern, all traces of the character he'd been playing moments ago completely gone as general concern kicks in.

The man in charge just laughs a little, closer to a scoff than anything else. "_Don't worry, Detective. We won't hurt your girlfriend._"

"_You can just let her go. Get the laptop and let her leave,_" Deeks says, almost begging. The man doesn't give a response, he simply shrugs and turns, gesturing for Josh and Harold Carpenter the pretend janitor to follow him outside, taking the phone with him.

"_Sit down, Detective,_" Ruiz says, "_It's gonna be a while._"

Nell and the others watch as the camera angle shifts, indicating that Deeks has sat down.

"Eric, how fast can you set up a dummy laptop to sync up with your computer?" Callen asks, disrupting the new silence.

Eric looks up, his eyes flicking once to Nell before landing back on Callen. "What do you want on it?"

"Make it look like it belongs to Deeks," Callen says, his eyes still focused on the big screen. "Just enough to fool these guys. Deeks'll have to be able to log in to the LAPD database."

"You're actually planning on sending Nell in." It's said slowly, and Eric tries to keep any accusation and worry out of his voice, but he fails miserably.

"We're gonna be right behind her," Sam says in a placating tone. "We put the GPS on Nell or the laptop, we follow her and get Deeks back."

Eric dips his head guiltily, his hand rising to rub his furrowed brow. "And what if they kill her as soon as they get the laptop?"

"They won't," Nell says, stepping in before anyone else can speak up. "They'll want to use me to insure Deeks does what he's asked."

Eric nods as he slowly lifts his head, his eyes still focused on the floor. Nell knows he gets nervous when any of the team is in danger, even more so when it's her, and this particular situation just screams danger. "There's no other way to get him back is there?" Eric asks, looking from Hetty to Callen.

"Not in time, Mr. Beal," Hetty admits quietly. Eric inhales loudly through his nose and spins back around, facing his computer.

"Give me twenty minutes," he says, his tone all business and bravado as he begins typing. "Someone go find me a laptop to use."

Nell walks out of Ops to get the requested laptop, watching as Callen claps Eric on the back. They don't have long. An hour is hardly enough time to rig a false laptop, call LAPD to request backup, and prepare the one hundred other things they need to do in order to pull this off.

But Nell doesn't think about that at the moment. She simply puts one foot in front of the other as she makes her way down the stairs. Right now, she needs to focus on what _she_ alone has to do. She's been in enough situations by now to know how scary things can be. She knows how much depends on her getting this right.

If she makes a mistake, both her and Deeks could end up dead.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

At nearly eleven o'clock on a Friday night, traffic in Los Angeles is at its worst. Nell manages to clear through the majority of it, maneuvering her car towards Culver City. It's all a little surreal as she drives past the famed landmarks, all mostly associated with TV and movies. She's redirected and forced to take the long way around when the road she needs is blocked off, the lights and equipment for a film crew taking up most of the street.

The surf shop is small, just a little hole in the wall compared to the other shops and restaurants on the street. It's on the outskirts of the city, away from the main hustle and bustle that makes up Culver City, but still close enough that there are plenty of people around. She drives a little further, leaning forward as she keeps a look out for the coffee shop. To her chagrin, there are two of them, one on either side of the street.

"Deeks didn't clarify which coffee shop did he?"she asks needlessly. She already knows he hadn't. Not that it would matter, since both shops are closed.

"_No, but I doubt it matters,_" Callen says, and Nell looks in the rearview mirror for the car she knows Sam and Callen had been driving. "_They'll probably grab you as soon as you get out of the car_."

"That's comforting," Nell says, grabbing her phone and sending a quick text to Ruiz's number, letting 'Deeks' know that she's there.

"_We're right behind you, Nell,_" Kensi says, and Nell knows that Kensi's just as nervous about this as she is. Though he doesn't say anything, Nell knows that Detective Ryan is riding shotgun with Kensi, filling in as backup until they get Deeks back.

"_You got two approaching at your ten o'clock, Nell_," Callen warns. Nell looks up, recognizing the two men as Josh and Harold the Janitor.

"Trust my training, right?" Nell says, looking back down at the phone in her hand, pretending not to recognize the two men. After all, she's not supposed to know who they are.

"_Exactly,_" Callen tells her as the men approach her car. Nell jumps as Josh raps his knuckles against her window. _"You'll be okay, Nell_," Callen adds before she moves to open her window.

She rolls it down only an inch, just enough for the men to speak through the small crack. "Can I help you?" she asks nervously, her phone gripped tightly in her hand.

"Are you Nell?" Josh asks quietly in a tone that's clearly intended to be friendly and comforting.

"Who are you?" Nell looks between the two men, her eyes wide. Josh plasters on a calming smile and Nell feels sick with how normal the man appears.

"We're friends of Marty's," Josh explains with his falsely normal smile. "He sent us to get you."

Nell shakes her head and gives a nervous laugh. "Sorry, no offense, but I'm just going to wait for him." She rolls her window up, blocking the men out. A small tap on the glass forces her to turn her attention back to Josh. He's using the gun he had aimed at Deeks to tap against the glass, his normal smile turning creepy.

"I really need you to get out of the car, Nell," he tells her as Harold takes a step closer.

"_Get out slowly,_" Sam advises her, "_Remember, you have no idea what's going on. You're supposed to be terrified_." Nell wants to laugh at the advice. It seems a little unnecessary.

"Where's Marty?" she whispers shakily as she opens the door, Josh reaching in to grab her arm.

"He's fine," Josh says, pulling her back so Harold can look in the car. The laptop is lying in the passenger seat. Harold quickly grabs it and slams the door to the mini-cooper closed.

Josh keeps a tight grip on her arm as he begins to steer her across the street. "Where are we going?" Nell asks as she's led to a dark SUV.

She feels the muzzle of the gun press against her ribcage. "We're going to take you to Marty," Josh answers gently. Josh opens the back passenger door of the SUV, helping Nell inside as Harold climbs into the driver's seat.

Nell sits somewhat stunned as Josh closes her door and walks around to the other side of the van. He climbs in beside her, the gun resting in his lap. "You just keep quiet and everything will be okay," Josh tells her comfortingly, surprising her with his sincerity.

Nell nods, her head bouncing up and down quickly as her fingers twist in the hem of her skirt nervously. She's nervous, scared as hell, but it's mostly all for show, to make the men believe she's scared out of her mind.

She forces herself not to turn around to check whether or not the others are following. She knows she wouldn't be able to see them, not if they don't want to be seen.

Sam, seemingly having read her mind, speaks reassuringly. "_We're right behind you, Nell_."

TBC…


	9. Close Calls and Convictions

**A/N:** Okay people, this thing has been finished for a few days now. The reason it hasn't been posted is because something's been wonky with the site. Every time I would try to upload the file into Document Manager, bright red letters would appear asking me to 'please select a document that is compatible with my computer'. WTF? I tried and tried. Even did so on different computers and a phone. It was my account or the site or something. But alas, it is finally done. I'd apologize, but I'm accepting no blame. It's all on FanFiction for the delay.

I realize that many people were hoping for this story to go a certain way. Some of you hate Kensi, others are hardcore Densi shippers. Some are tired of violence, others want blood and gore. It's pretty much safe to say that _some_ of you aren't going to be happy, because there's seriously no way to please 'em all. I went with what was originally planned. If anyone has suggestions or requests for later stories, I'm open to them. But once a story's started, I pretty much try to stick with what was planned. That being said, thank you so much for all the support this story has generated. Each chapter was hitting the double digits in terms of reviews, and I've never had a story do that. I also thank everyone for being patient with the cliffhangers.

**Chapter 9:** Close Calls and Convictions

Despite the watch secured around his wrist, Deeks loses track of time. Eric had un-muted the earpiece, letting him hear what was going on. It had been hard to sit back and act like nothing was wrong as he listened to Nell being forced from her car.

Ruiz keeps looking at him from time to time, casting glances that promise nothing good. Deeks feels as though the man is just biding his time, waiting for the boss man to give his word, like an attack dog waiting for the leash to be released.

Nina has kept quiet, occasionally glancing towards Deeks, but for the most part, her attention stays focused on the other three men in the room. Ruiz nurses another beer while the boss man fiddles with his phone. It's the third man that Deeks feels nervous about, and judging by the way Nina keeps a watchful, guarded eye on the man, she feels the same.

The man seems perfectly content sitting at the table, a statue watching over the cargo. Other than what Deeks assumes to have been a bathroom break, the man hasn't moved, a fact Deeks is perfectly okay with, no matter how creepy the man is. During that trip to the bathroom, the unnamed man had passed by the oversized couch, coming close enough for Deeks to get a good whiff of him. Deeks had recognized it immediately; it was the same fishy odor that had covered the body of David Oran, the man Deeks had found in his trunk. Ruiz might have confessed to dumping Oran's body, but there's no doubt in Deeks' mind that this man had something to do with Oran's death.

The smelly man looks like a regular blue-collar kind of guy. Scuffed work boots, a worn, sun-bleached button up shirt. His hands look chapped and calloused, his nails short and blunt. Add that to the dark tan, it's obvious the man works outdoors, most likely with or near fish, or at least that's what Deeks is thinking.

Deeks knows that Nell and the two men are close. He's been trying to track the drive in his mind, Sam narrating as they go, giving those that can't see a head's up. The drive had led them away from the hustle and bustle of the city, the crowded roads dwindling down into a two-lane highway, forcing Sam and the others to hang back or risk discovery.

Even though they're following at a greater distance, Deeks still knows they're close by, that they're coming. It's a hell of a lot better than it was two hours ago.

Thanks to the antique parking lot, Deeks can hear when the SUV arrives, the loose gravel and debris crunching beneath the tires. He watches as Ruiz, the boss man, and the fish man all stand. Nina simply straightens her posture as Deeks scoots to the edge of the couch.

The guns come out again, and Deeks frowns when he sees what looks a lot like his missing gun in the fish smelling man's hand. Ruiz opens the door, holding it open while Josh and Harold usher in a scared looking Nell. Deeks feels his muscles tighten, his stomach turn. Either she actually is terrified, or she's just a really good actress.

"Nell," he says, standing slowly so no one feels as though they need to turn their guns on him. "Are you okay?" he asks, looking her up and down for any sign of injury.

She gives him a short, quick nod. Josh is holding her arm, his hand wrapped around her bicep, forcing Nell to stand on her tiptoes to minimize the pain thanks to their height difference.

"Keep watch outside," the boss man says to Harold, accepting the laptop. "Give us a heads up if you see anything suspicious." Harold nods, and exits back outside to keep a lookout.

The man holds up the laptop. It's plain and silver, one Deeks has never seen in his life. The computer is set on the table, next to the heroin and the once offered beer bottle, the condensation building a small puddle.

Josh lets go of Nell's arm, pushing her roughly in Deeks' direction. She quickly takes the last few steps to stand at his side. Again, Deeks looks her over for any injuries. "You sure you okay?" he whispers.

"I'm fine," she whispers in return, her shoulder pressing into his arm as she takes another step closer.

"_We're a few minutes out,_" Callen tells them. Deeks knows they would have heard about Harold playing look out. The building is in the middle of nowhere. The highway rarely used, especially this late at night. Harold would see any car coming for at least a mile. The best plan of action would be to park the cars a good distance away and sneak in on foot. He knows that 'a few minutes' doesn't actually mean a few minutes.

"Now, isn't that adorable," the boss man deadpans, turning the now opened laptop so that Deeks can see. Deeks wants to roll his eyes. Obviously, Eric had set the laptop up to look like it belonged to Deeks, and seeing how Eric most likely didn't have any pictures of Monty on hand, he had made do with a picture of Nell, the supposed girlfriend, for the desktop background.

Deeks looks to Nell. She still has that confused, terrified hostage face going on, but the way her lips purse to the side as she looks at the small screen tells Deeks that she hadn't really been expecting to see the picture.

"Why don't you come over here, Detective?" The boss man pulls out a chair, inviting Deeks to sit in front of the computer. "Let's see what you've got."

Deeks feels Nell squeeze his hand reassuringly. He offers her a quick smile, and squeezes back before walking to the table and taking the offered seat. Ruiz and Josh walk to the far wall, their guns out just in case.

"This won't work without wifi," Deeks points out, and the boss man smiles. Nina comes forward, and reaches into an oversized purse Deeks hadn't noticed before. She pulls out a small black box, and sets it on the table. As soon as the light on the box begins to flash, Deeks sees the little symbol in the corner of the computer's screen signal that it's connected to the Internet. "Well, okay then," he mumbles as he places a finger on the track pad.

The desktop only has a few files, one labeled pictures, one music, another work. Deeks has no idea what to click on. The laptop he actually uses for work is separate from the one he uses for personal use. It has the NCIS symbol as a background, the browser set to automatically bring him to the sign-in page.

Eric being the genius that he is, would have known this, and would have prepared. "_Just click the browser,_" Eric instructs, and Deeks does as he's told. _"They won't see anything we don't want them to._"

The page takes a few seconds to open up, the wifi apparently not very strong. "So," Deeks says slowly, wanting to stall and give time for Callen and the others to arrive. "What's with the busted up iPod?"

"None of your concern," the boss man tells him calmly, taking the seat opposite Deeks, crossing his legs so that one ankle rests on a knee. "You just focus on what I want you to do."

Deeks nods as the page finally loads. He knows he shouldn't be, but he's actually a little surprised to see the LAPD employee sign-in page.

"_Just use your username and password for NCIS_," Eric tells him, talking him through what needs to be done.

"How long have the two of you been together?"

Deeks looks up as Nina saunters over to the table, one manicured nail gesturing between him and Nell.

"Not long," Deeks tells her as he carefully types in his password. "Seems like only yesterday we were just friends." Deeks looks up, grinning as he offers Nell a wink. She folds her arms across her chest and tilts her head, clearly not finding him funny. "Ain't that right, Nell."

"Yep," she says quietly, still managing to pop the 'p'. Deeks sees her look warily at Nina, and he can't blame her. If Ruiz is a Rottweiler waiting to attack, then Nina is a cat waiting to pounce. The fact that she's looking at Nell as though the analyst is a defenseless mouse only makes the situation worse.

The password entered, Deeks waits for the page to load. The sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor causes him to turn around. The silent man with the fishy smell is dragging a large portable cooler into the room. Deeks has seen many coolers like that, usually in the back of someone's truck or fishing boat.

"What's with the big box?" he asks nervously. The boss man looks up from the screen to see what Deeks is talking about. He shrugs when he sees the cooler, a sinister looking smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

"Think of it as a little incentive," he answers cryptically.

"Incentive for what?" Deeks demands, his tone hard. The man drops the end of the cooler near the couch, right next to Nell. When he pops the lid open, Deeks sees Nell's face pale, her hand rising to cover her nose and mouth as she takes a step back.

It takes a moment for the smell to travel across the room, but when it does, Deeks wants to mimic Nell's movement. It's that dead fishy smell again, only this time much more potent.

"What is that?" Deeks asks, causing everyone in the room aside from him and Nell to laugh.

"It's fish guts," Ruiz explains cheerfully. He walks towards the cooler and peers in, frowning in faked disgust before kicking the lid closed. "Helps hide the smell of dead bodies."

Deeks freezes as he looks at the cooler, the computer and false log-in long forgotten as realization sets in. "That's were you hid Oran's body."

Ruiz nods, licking his lips as he grins madly. "Uh-huh," he says, kicking the box again. "Wanna guess what we're gonna use it for next?"

"They had to fold Oran to get him inside," Nina says, walking towards Nell, her hand reaching forward to push Nell's short bangs to the side. "But I bet you'd just fit right in with no problem."

Nell angrily slaps the woman's hand away, and takes a few steps back. "Stay away from me," Nell warns, trying to sound threatening even though she's surrounded. Ruiz and the man with the cooler are on one side, Josh the other, and Nina in front.

Deeks stands, his jaw clenched. He knows it's only been a few minutes at the most, but it feels like forever. Callen and the others should be there any moment. He guesses Hetty and Eric are watching what's happening, because Eric's quit giving him instructions.

"Leave her alone," he says, surprising himself as the order comes out sounding very close to a growl. He doesn't move forward, too many guns hinting that that might be a bad idea. Nina turns, and the look she gives him is entirely mischievous.

"Or what?" she asks tauntingly, her eyes lighting up as she looks behind Deeks. Deeks knows that the boss man is behind him, but right now his focus is on Nell and the woman invading her personal space.

When Deeks doesn't answer, Nina laughs a little, letting out a flirty sigh as she slowly turns back to face Nell.

"Y'all can just let her go." This time, there's no ire in Deeks' voice. He sounds tired and pleading. He can hear it and he knows everyone else can, too.

"_We're almost there, Deeks_." It's Kensi's voice this time. He can tell she's moving, working to control her breathing. He looks to Nell, sees that she heard it, too. He wants to ask if "almost" is right outside, or still a good ways to go? He wants to point out that they should have been there already, that none of this should even be happening. But he doesn't. He just waits. He stands perfectly still, waiting for someone to do something.

He can't see the man behind him, but he knows he's there, most likely getting impatient because Deeks isn't concerned about the computer at the moment. Josh is looking from Nina to the boss man, clearly waiting for instructions before he moves. Ruiz is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with psychotic energy, and Mina's continuing to step closer to Nell.

Even with all of this, it's the un-named man that scares the hell out of Deeks, the one that smells like rotten fish guts. He's holding Deeks' gun, standing at parade rest, his face a mask of indifference, as though he could care less about what's going on around him. Deeks has seen a lot of crazy people in his lifetime, and from the looks of it, the boss man likes to have a crazy in every flavor, but _that _guy…that guy is scary.

Deeks is about to turn around to ask the man behind him once again to let Nell go, but stops when he sees Nina bring her hand back. He doesn't have time to yell a warning, barely even has time to process what he's actually seeing before the back of Nina's fist connects with Nell's jaw. The sound is loud, drowned out only by Nell's cry of pain and Deeks' cry of outrage.

He knows he had begun to move, his intention to get to Nell, but a sharp pain in his ribcage right below the armpit on his back has him reaching for the table to keep from hitting the ground.

It isn't until he feels the pain a second time that he remembers the taser. Low setting or not, it hurts. It feels like someone is biting down as hard as they can before adding in the electric shock, allowing the pain to radiate out.

This time, the table does no good. His knees hit the ground hard as he doubles over to get away from the taser. The grunt of pain sounds more like a bark of laughter as he tries to breathe in. His head still bowed to the ground, the muscles in his back twitching of their own free will, he asks breathily, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Nell answers, her voice muffled by her hand covering her tender mouth. Deeks looks up then, frowning. She's sitting on the couch now, her eyes a little glassy, and Deeks can't help wondering whether or not Nell's ever actually been hit in the face before. He's had it happen more times than he can count, but not everyone can say they've taken a punch.

She moves her hand, revealing skin already marked red. "I'm okay," she promises, and Deeks nods, letting his head drop again as he sits back on his heels.

"If you're done playing the good knight, you mind getting back to the task at hand?"

Deeks turns at the sound of the man's voice, his eyes narrowing in distaste at the taser in the boss man's hand. It's a sign of how well Hetty knows her team, because other than the guns pointing to Nell, Hetty's stern reminder to "_play it cool, Mr. Deeks,_" is the only thing that keeps him from smarting back with some sarcastic comment.

Keeping in mind that if he screws up both he and Nell could end up dead, Deeks swallows his pride and moves to stand. Slowly, he places his hands on the table for leverage, pushing down so he can rise up off the floor.

He's halfway up when a rhythmic knock rattles the front door.

"Son of a bitch," the boss man swears through clenched teeth. He tosses the taser onto the table and points angrily at the door, his once seemingly handsome features disappearing as he snarls at Deeks. "What did you do?!"

Deeks, still kneeling on the floor, looks at the man in complete confusion. He has no idea what the knock was about, but judging by the way everyone tenses, it's most likely Harold letting them know that Callen and the team have arrived.

The boss man quickly looks at the laptop and slams the lid closed, his lips pressed into a tight line. "You led someone here," he says, shaking his finger accusingly. "How?"

"Listen, I didn't—" Deeks begins only to be cut off when the man's fist connects with his cheek. Deeks falls to the ground, his head bouncing on the floor. He feels the earpiece slip and fall. Still reeling from the man's right hook and not wanting to be caught, Deeks lets the earpiece go, not daring to reach for it.

"Don't lie to me!" the man yells, the sound echoing in the lobby. They hear gunfire, the nearness suggesting that Harold is shooting at someone. Two more quick shots fire in the distance, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground.

Any anger the boss man had quickly transforms into determination as he realizes his one guard has been taken out. "Josh, block the door. John, Daryl, help me with him."

Deeks realizes the guy's referring to him when the man grabs him by his shirt and attempts to haul him to his feet. Ruiz and the fish man, who Deeks now knows to be named Daryl, quickly take over for their boss, each grabbing an arm, practically dragging Deeks out of the lobby and into a separate part of the building.

He tries to turn around, to look and see where Nell is, but the men keep pushing until Deeks' view is completely blocked. As they pass through a set of double doors, it's perfectly clear that only the lobby had been set up for use. A few scattered work lamps light the long hallway, extension cords seemingly snaking from nowhere to provide electricity.

Deeks is shoved into a wall and pinned, Ruiz's maniacal smile too close to Deeks' face for comfort.

"Was it GPS?" the boss man asks, his face still twisted into a snarl. "Is that how you did it? Was the laptop rigged?"

Deeks tries to put on his most innocent face as he looks the man in the eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lies, stumbling on the words as Ruiz presses his forearm to Deeks' neck, much like Callen had done earlier that day.

The boss man scoffs, shaking his head as he runs his hand over his mouth. "Either it was you, or the girl," he deduces, a small smile mingling in with the snarl. "Now, either you tell me why someone's outside shooting my men, or I'll go ask your friend."

Deeks tries to swallow, a task made difficult by Ruiz's enthusiasm in keeping him still. "You seem like the type of guy that would make a lot of enemies," Deeks says steadily. "How do you know they're here for me?"

The man laughs and takes a step closer to Deeks. "Because the only people who know I exist are in this building."

Deeks strains his ears, listening for any sign that Callen and the others have entered the building, trying to hear what Nina and Josh are up to.

"You know," the boss man says pointedly, "I think Nina's taken interest in your girl. I think it'd be in Nell's best interest if you started talking."

Deeks doesn't have a chance to respond. The boss man simply nods once to Daryl the fish man, and Deeks can tell from Ruiz's girly laugh that things are about to get bad.

Later, Deeks will look back on this moment and take pride in his assessment of Daryl. He's always thought himself a good judge of character, and it turns out he was right on the money when he pegged Daryl for being a scary guy.

The nod is barely finished before all of Deeks' breath is forced out in a painful grunt as Daryl buries his fist in Deeks' stomach, aiming for the solar plexus, bringing about white flashes of light in the corners of Deeks' eyes.

It all goes to Hell from there. He's vaguely aware of the boss man walking away as Ruiz joins in on the beating, holding Deeks up as Daryl sends one well-aimed punch after another. Pretty soon, Deeks is tasting blood, his head is pounding, his body screaming for everything to just stop, and were it not for the fear of dying, Deeks would wish for oblivion in the form of unconsciousness.

The boss man is long gone by the time Deeks is dropped to the ground. He doesn't struggle, doesn't even bother to move. He's lying on his back, his arms spread haphazardly around him as he looks up through a hazy mess of sweat, blood, and what he shamefully realizes might be tears.

Ruiz and Daryl are both standing above him, their back to the set of double doors, their heavy boots even with Deeks' eyesight. Fearing said boots might soon come into contact with his face, Deeks turns his head, deciding it best to keep an eye on them.

He hears a gun cock above him, but he's too distracted to bother looking up. The sight of the double doors opening holds all of his attention.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Nell can hear Callen and the others in her ear, she can hear them whispering orders to one another, directing each other as they move. She has a moment of panic as Deeks is practically dragged from the room.

She doesn't know why she does it, she's perfectly aware that she's no match for the three men leading Deeks away, yet she still finds herself trying to get to him. Of course, she forgot about the pair still in the room with her.

Nina stops her with an arm around her shoulders, roughly pushing her back.

"Where are they taking him?" Nell asks, stumbling backwards towards the table and away from the man and woman watching her. Josh had pushed the couch against the front door. While it wouldn't stop someone from getting in, it definitely would slow them down, making it difficult to barge in and take control of the room.

Nell continues to back up, stopping only when the table's edge pushes into her lower back. She's always been good at multi-tasking. Keeping both eyes on Nina and Josh, she tries to listen for Deeks, for a sign that Callen and the others have found an alternate way inside.

She slowly eases her hands behind her, grappling blindly for something to use as a weapon. Her fingers ghost over the closed laptop as she continues to search. She forces herself not to smile as she feels a hard, textured plastic, her thumb instinctively turning a dial.

"Go help the boys, I've got her," Nina says to Josh, her eyes never leaving Nell. Nell knows there are several factors that motivate criminals, ranging from greed, revenge, even misguided delusions. As Nina gets within striking distance, seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that she might soon be going to jail or worse, Nell wonders which motivation brought Nina here.

"We don't have time for this," Josh says harshly, once again grasping Nell's upper arm in a painful grip. "We gotta go."

Nell doesn't hesitate. She swings her other arm around low, biting her lower lip as the taser makes contact with the man's groin. She doesn't know how high of a charge she managed to set it on, but as Josh screams, she knows it was high enough.

The moment Josh releases her arm, Nell looks back to the table. She drops the taser and reaches for the beer bottle, the one Ruiz had offered to Deeks so many hours before. She grips the handle and swings around, hitting Nina on the side of the head as the woman begins to reach for Josh's dropped gun.

Nell flinches at the sound, the bottle connecting with a hollow thud before the woman falls. She doesn't bother to check to see if either is okay, or even still alive. She leaves them both on the floor unconscious as she takes up Josh's gun, and begins to quietly pad across the room towards the double doors.

"Eric, can you me?" she whispers as she casts a cautionary glance back to the two on the ground, insuring that they're still where she left them.

"_I'm here, Nell,_" Eric answers, sounding just as scared as she feels.

"_Miss Jones, are you okay?_" she hears Hetty ask. Nell blinks slowly as she works to calm her nerves, her lower lip seemingly permanently stuck between her teeth.

Ignoring Hetty's question, she eases to the doors, pressing her ear against it and frowning at what she hears. "They took Deeks," she tells them.

"_The others are on their way,_" Eric says, trying to be reassuring.

"_Nell, can you get to him?" _Hetty asks quietly, using Nell's first name. Nell closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, nodding before she's even made up her mind.

"Yeah," she says checking the gun, making certain the safety is off. "I can do this."

"_Yes, you can_," Hetty agrees, her tone sincere.

Nell doesn't know if Eric mutes her earpiece or if she gets tunnel vision, but suddenly all she hears is the sound of an unfair fight coming in from the other side of the pair of doors.

She holds the gun out in front of her, keeping it aimed at the ground as she pushes one of the doors open, slipping in quietly.

She sees Deeks on the ground, his face pinched in pain and for a split second she thinks he's dead. But then he breathes in a shaky breath and turns his head, his eyes locking with hers.

Just as quickly he closes them, looking away as he begins to laugh. It's a laugh she's heard before, a laugh he uses when he's trying to think off the top of his head, trying to find a distraction.

Later, she'll look back at this moment and realize just how remarkable the man lying ten feet away truly is. Even beaten to the ground, Deeks manages to try and help her, making sure the attention stays focused on him.

She leaves her foot out, catching the door as it tries to swing shut. She raises the gun and aims.

"What are you laughing at?" Ruiz asks with a sneer, adding insult to injury as he spits on Deeks' chest.

The laugh turns breathy and fades with fatigue as Deeks breaks for a breath. "At you," Deeks tells the man, smiling with bloodstained teeth.

Nell can't see the men's faces, but she can tell they probably look confused and pissed, because Deeks' smile only grows as he points to her, signaling her cue.

Both men begin to turn, Daryl raising his gun as he meets Nell's eye. Nell pulls the trigger twice, hitting the man in the chest just as Deeks stands. Nell watches as in one swift, though ungraceful move, Deeks grabs the gun in Daryl's hand and aims it at Ruiz, sliding his finger over Daryl's and squeezes.

Nell watches as all three men fall to the ground, first Daryl, then Ruiz, and finally Deeks.

"Deeks?" she asks worriedly, lowering the gun and quickly running forward.

"I'm good," he huffs out, raising his hand to give her a crooked thumbs-up.

"_Nell?_"

"We're good, Eric," she quickly tells him as she bends down. "Deeks is hurt though."

"Deeks is going to be okay," Deeks says loudly, obviously not liking being spoken about. He keeps his eyes closed as he continues to lay on the ground. Nell's hand hovers over him, afraid to actually touch him for fear of hurting him.

Hetty clearly isn't convinced. "_Miss Jones?_"

"He's pretty banged up," Nell tells her, arching an eyebrow, challenging Deeks to say otherwise when he cracks open a swollen eye. "But I think he'll live," she adds on with a small smile.

Nell scoots back as Deeks pushes himself into a sitting position, both moving away from the two bodies.

"Main guy got away," Deeks says just as someone rounds the corner in the distance.

"Nell? Deeks?" Sam asks before moving closer.

"Look who decided to finally show up," Deeks jokes, "You missed all the fun."

Sam snorts as he shakes his head, and Nell can tell he's having to force the smile as he looks them over. "Gotta keep you on your toes, Deeks."

"There's two in there," Nell says, pointing to the double doors. "They were unconscious when I left."

Sam nods and moves to check it out as Kensi and Callen enter the hallway, Detective Ryan right behind them.

Callen and Kensi pay no attention to the two dead men on the ground, all the focus trained on their teammates. Detective Ryan stands to the side, looking a little out of place as Callen helps Deeks to his feet.

Deeks wipes the back of his hand across his chin, smearing blood rather than wiping it away. Nell hears him sigh heavily as they stand side by side, both being subjected to the scrutiny of their teammates.

"You know," Callen says, looking at Deeks with a half-serious glare, "sometimes I wonder if you go out looking for trouble."

"On occasion," Deeks admits, matching Callen's developing smile. "_This_ wouldn't be one of those occasions, though. The kind of trouble I look for is usually more amicable and ends…less bloody."

Callen laughs then, slapping Deeks on the shoulder as Nell and Kensi both roll their eyes. Detective Ryan shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he puts his gun back in its holster. Nell can only imagine what the man is thinking of their little group.

Slowly, they make their way back into the lobby, Deeks no doubtedly aiming for the couch as they wait for the remainder of their backup to arrive. The worst might be over, but there's still a great deal to do.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Nell pulls the thin, oversized sweatshirt over her head, loving the feel of it swallowing her whole. She slips her feet into her favorite pair of house shoes and begins to make her way to the couch.

Her jaw is now a light bruise, nothing too major, but definitely noticeable. Hetty had called it her red badge of courage, Sam had said it was her first battle scar. Either way, it's tender as hell and radiates a pulsing pain as she gently places the icepack against her skin.

She's settling into the corner of her couch, the TV on, the opening credits for _Ghostbusters_ playing across the screen. There's not too much on worth watching at two in the morning, but she's too wired for sleep.

Nina and Josh had both survived and are in LAPD custody. Daryl and John Ruiz both died in the hallway, their bodies now resting in the county morgue. The boss man had gotten away, but is no way in the clear.

The man's fingerprints had been all over the lobby, they have his picture, they know what he sounds like. Eric had checked the busted iPod, recovering several data files proving to be a modern-day little black book, revealing more than enough information to track his 'organization.'

Detective Marisol Abernathy was pleasantly pleased with that bit of information, gladly accepting the returned evidence as well as the little bit of extra NCIS had managed to put together. The man might still be without a name, but not for long.

She stretches her legs across the cushions, the heels of her feet hitting the opposite armrest as she leans her head on the back of the small couch. Her mind alternates between focusing on the movie and replaying the events from hours before.

She likes the idea of one day being a field agent, she's been thinking about it for years. There were times in that old lobby when she had been scared out of her mind, but not once did she wish she could back out. While she wishes like crazy that the night had gone better, she's still glad it happened if for no other reason than she now has a better understanding of what she's capable of.

She had always thought walking into a building knowing there was danger inside would be one of the hardest things to do. But hearing Deeks on the other side of the double doors, listening to him being hurt, she hadn't really needed to think about it. She knew there wasn't any other choice, and she gone in.

Yes, she had been scared, but that's still okay. Her and Deeks survived, albeit each a little worse for wear, Deeks even more so, but still…surviving is surviving.

She had thought about calling him before her shower, thought about checking in on him, just to make sure he was okay. But knowing Kensi would most likely be there checking up on her partner had pushed the idea from Nell's mind. Deeks was fine when they separated, no need to worry.

She wiggles her toes to stop her feet from falling asleep as she shifts positions, tossing the icepack to the coffee table. She's considering making herself something to eat when a soft knock at the door catches her off guard, causing her heart to race.

Quietly, she hurries across the living room, standing on her tiptoes to peer out the peephole, her eyes widening in surprise as she sees Deeks standing outside.

"Deeks?" she asks as she opens the door, one eyebrow arching in question as she looks at the tray in his hand.

"Hey," he says, sounding nervous. "Figured you'd still be awake."

She nods and opens the door wider, gesturing for him to come inside. "Um, what's up?" she asks, not really knowing what else to say.

Deeks gestures to the two large styrofoam cups in his hand. "Usually, when Kensi and I have a stellar day like today, we try to unwind with beer, burgers, and bad TV."

Nell nods slowly, pointing to the tray with the two cups. "That doesn't look like beer or burgers."

"It's not," he says, finally beginning to smile. "Apparently, with all the drugs I've had in my system and the knocks to the head, alcohol consumption should be frowned upon. Or so I'm told. And I agree." He takes a deep breath once he realizes he's rambling and points to one of the cups. "Sometimes, shakes work, too. Especially when you've had the hell knocked outta ya."

Nell laughs as she turns and locks the door. "What kind of shake?"

"Chocolate," he answers quickly. "Figured since you're a girl and all…"

"Chocolate's fine," she tells him with a smile.

"I'd have brought food, but I didn't know if you were hungry," he says, partway as an apology.

Nell tilts her head as she says, "I don't know if you remember, but I make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

"Sounds good," Deeks says with an embarrassed laugh, following Nell into the kitchen.

He sets the tray of shakes on the counter as she begins to gather the peanut butter and jelly. She sets them down and begins to spread the peanut butter over a slice of bread.

Deeks doesn't ask, he simply grabs a second knife and starts adding jelly to another slice. He looks forward, his eyes not really focusing on anything in particular as his tongue runs across his split lip. "You kind of saved my life tonight."

Her knife stills for only a moment before she regains her composure. She's known Deeks long enough to know he's not really comfortable with the deeply emotional situations. In all honesty, neither is she. "Kind of?" she asks.

"Alright. You definitely saved my life, helping me take down the bad guys." Deeks sets the jellied piece of bread on a plate before handing Nell one of the shakes.

"I helped you, huh?" Nell accepts the offered shake, tearing the straw paper open with her teeth.

"I like to think of it was a team effort," Deeks says, nodding as a crooked smile settles into place.

"I took out three of them," Nell points out proudly, speaking around the straw in her mouth. "You got one."

"I've had a really bad day," Deeks tells her, raising both eyebrows pleadingly. "Cut me some slack."

Nell takes a long sip of her shake as she pretends to consider, one eye squinting for effect. "Team effort," she finally concedes, holding her styrofoam cup in the air between them.

Deeks' smile softens as he does the same, knocking his own cup against hers in a friendly toast. "Damn straight."

The End.

**A/N: **It might be a while before I post anything else. I'm in the process of moving (like 500 miles/ 800 km away kind of move) and I don't want to start posting something until I have time to do it right.

By the by, I've had two people ask, and I don't know if anyone else is interested, but just in case…I do not have a Facebook or LJ page, but I am trying out the Twitter thing. ashtonblayne for those who've asked.


End file.
